


Extraordinary Lengths

by MaxWrite



Series: Extraordinary Lengths Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Breathplay, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Mind Control, Non Consensual, Non-Graphic Violence, Symphorophilia, suggestions of Chan fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-06
Updated: 2009-06-06
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 46,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxWrite/pseuds/MaxWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the <a href="http://hp-lexicon.org">HP Lexicon</a>: <i>"Barty Sr. quickly realized the extent of Barty’s (Jr.) allegiance to Voldemort, and went to extraordinary lengths to keep his son imprisoned at their home."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Extraordinary Lengths

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Percy Ficathon](http://percy_ficathon.livejournal.com) '09.

"How are the bristles coming on, Weatherby?"

"Smashingly, Mr. Crouch, sir. I've gathered information on standard broom-bristle specifications from Austria, Portugal and Venezuela, comparing them to our own, taking into account differences in climate, usage and –"

"Good, good," Bartemius Crouch Sr. said with a wave of his hand to silence Percy Weasley as Percy followed him into his office. Mr. Crouch took a seat behind his desk, leaving Percy to shut the door and then take his place before the desk, quill and notepad at the ready.

"What about the Canadian Prime Minister?" asked Crouch without any indication of what he wanted with the Canadian Prime Minister. Percy, however, needed no further explanation. He replied without missing a beat.

"You're scheduled to meet with him tomorrow at 9am GMT."

"Has he stopped trying to board up that fireplace in his office yet?"

"I'm afraid not, sir."

Crouch's moustache twitched. "Damn. I was hoping to avoid having to go down there, but if he insists... Fudge still not willing to handle this?"

"He's confident that you can, sir. You are, after all, the best head the Department of International Magical Cooperation has seen in years."

Crouch arched an eyebrow at him. "Those his words?"

"Well, I've only spoken to his assistant, sir, but I certainly think you're the best."

Crouch lowered his eyes and smiled. "You flatter me, Weatherby."

"Simply stating a fact, sir."

"Well, as I was saying, new Muggle ministers are always a bit skittish about us at first. He'll come round eventually. We'll send him a nice gift basket. Fancy cheeses or jams or some such," Crouch said with another wave of his hand. Percy immediately began jotting things on his notepad. "Appease him a bit, you know."

"Yes, sir. I'll have that taken care of, sir. Right away."

"What about lunch?"

"It will be here at seven minutes after one on the dot this afternoon, as usual, sir."

"And the charity auction tonight?"

"Your robes have been cleaned and pressed, shoes polished, and they'll be waiting for you in your office after work, sir."

"What about the –"

"Done."

"And the –"

"Taken care of."

"And my –"

"I've got Bagman's assistant on it, sir."

"Hmph." Crouch finally looked up at Percy and regarded him shrewdly. "You're on top of everything, then, are you?"

"I believe so, sir," Percy said uncertainly, frowning down at his little notepad. He flipped through a few pages, checking for anything he might've missed.

"Hmph," Crouch grunted again, now drumming his fingers on his desk. Percy stopped browsing his notes and looked up at him, ready to start jotting things down again. Crouch seemed deep in thought, no longer looking at Percy, and he muttered, seemingly to himself, "Could use a spot of tea right about now."

A moment later, there was a knock at the door. Crouch nodded at Percy, and Percy went to the door and opened it to find a young woman standing on the other side carrying a tea tray.

Percy smiled, looking down his long nose at the woman. "Ah. Excellent, right on time. Just set it over there."

The slight, mousy-haired woman stepped jerkily into the room. Percy eyed her as she went, nerves flooding his body. He wished they wouldn't send _this one_ to deliver Mr. Crouch's tea. She was all anxiety and abrupt movements. It was a wonder she hadn't splattered Mr. Crouch's office with hot water and tiny sandwiches a million times over by now.

Crouch gave her a nod as she set the tray down. She nodded back, spun around and left the room, casting a furtive glance at Percy. His eyes followed her out, as though suspicious of her, and he promptly shut the door behind her. When he stepped back to the front of the desk, Crouch was preparing a cup for himself and looking much more relaxed than he had done a moment ago. Percy suppressed a self-satisfied smile.

"Just what the doctor ordered," Crouch sighed after his first sip. He fixed Percy with another scrutinising half-glare. "And at exactly the right moment too."

Percy wondered if he should remind Mr. Crouch that he craved tea at the exact same time every single day. He decided to keep his mouth shut and simply nod graciously instead.

"You're good," said Mr. Crouch. "You pay attention. You can read people. I like that."

"Thank you, sir." Percy's mouth twitched slightly as a smile threatened to break free and spread all the way across his face.

"I don't give you enough credit, I don't think. You're quick, efficient, hard-working. And I barely even notice you're here half the time."

Percy knew that all too well. In fact, all this new attention was as unnerving as it was pleasing.

"You're very good, indeed, very good." Crouch set his cup down and studied Percy again, eyes travelling up and down him as though he'd never seen Percy clearly before that moment. Percy tried not to fidget.

"Sir?" he said quietly. "Is there anything else I can do for you? If not, I really should get going on the rest of my report."

"It can wait. Why don't you have a seat? Sandwich?" Crouch nudged the tea tray toward Percy's side of the desk. Trying not to seem visibly disconcerted, Percy took the chair opposite Crouch. He didn't, however, take a sandwich.

"No, thank you, sir. Is everything all right? Are you sure I haven't missed something? I'll get right on it if –"

"Relax, Weather... Your first name is Peter, isn't it?"

"Percy, sir."

"Right, exactly. Percy. Nice name. Good, solid, traditional name," Crouch said with several nods. Then he looked thoughtful again and almost a little hesitant. "My son was named after me. You knew that, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"You know about that whole thing, don't you? About my son?" Crouch asked quietly, his small eyes fixed steadily on Percy now. The lines around them looked suddenly deeper.

"I try not to pay attention to gossip, sir," said Percy. Of course, everyone knew about _that_ whole thing. The story of Bartemius Crouch Jr., of his being a Death Eater and helping to torture the Longbottoms into insanity, was common knowledge. Percy didn't understand why Mr. Crouch was bringing this up; his son wasn't something he ever spoke of, and no one dared speak of it to him.

"Oh, I'm sure most, if not all, of what you've heard is true," sighed Crouch. There seemed to be something on the tip of his tongue. Percy wished he'd get it out already. The anticipation was worsening Percy's desire to squirm.

"You know me, Weatherby. You see things, you pay attention where others don't." Crouch squinted at Percy. "You're very astute. And very smart. Yes, definitely smart. You know when to keep quiet."

"Er... yes, sir."

"And you like your job. This job. Yes?"

"Yes, of course, sir."

"Mm, I can tell."

All this came as a shock to Percy. He had been under the impression that Mr. Crouch didn't pay him all that much attention. The man didn't even know his name.

"You know, I could use you in a more in-depth capacity. You're good at what you do and my work doesn't stop when I leave this building."

Percy leaned forward a bit. "More in-depth, sir?"

"Yes, you'd be working more closely with me, if you will. If you're interested in a small promotion, that is."

Percy sat up a bit straighter. "A promotion?"

"Just a minor one, really. There would be a slight salary increase, but your title would remain the same. Most of your duties wouldn't change; dictation, scheduling meetings and all the other little things I could never get done without you. And, of course, you'd be working with me in my home as well as here."

Percy's insides seemed to quiver with restrained excitement. A promotion, a salary increase, a closer working relationship with his boss; it was almost too good to be true. "I would be honoured, sir, really, I would."

"You're sure?" Crouch asked, a more serious, business-like tone returning to his voice. "I need you to be absolutely certain, because I'd be putting my trust in you. Inviting you into my home. I don't extend such offers to just anyone."

"I know, sir. I understand. I am absolutely certain." Percy took a breath, squared his shoulders and raised his chin. "I have the utmost confidence in my ability to do the job, sir. If you've noticed anything about me, sir, I hope you've noticed how very seriously I take my work."

"Oh, I've noticed. I wouldn't have asked you otherwise. Well, then," Crouch said, suddenly very brightly, as though a weight had been lifted from his person, although, Percy noticed, the lines around his eyes remained quite deep. "It's settled. Congratulations, Weatherby." He leaned forward and extended his arm across the desk to shake Percy's hand. With a smile, Percy reached for it and gripped it tight, careful not to grip as tightly as Crouch, who, Percy believed, ought to think his handshake was firmer than those of his underlings.

Crouch pumped Percy's hand once, and then the smile dropped from the man's face. "Don't muck it up. All right, Weatherby?"

"Er..." Percy cleared his throat as Mr. Crouch gave him his hand back. "Yes, sir. I won't, sir. You won't be disappointed."

 

* * *

Percy began leaving The Burrow earlier and earlier, and getting home later and later, even later than his father. His mother began to worry.

"That man is over-working you," Molly insisted, her voice tense and slightly frantic as she prepared a plate of that night's dinner for her son.

"No, he isn't."

"Look at the time! Everyone else is asleep!"

Just then, a low _whoof_ – as of a small, muffled explosion – issued from somewhere above. Both Molly and Percy looked toward the ceiling.

"The twins are awake," Percy pointed out.

Molly shot him a look. "Well, they hardly count, do they? In their own little world, those two."

"It's not even that late. Dad's gotten home later than this before."

"Your father has been with the Ministry for years," Molly said sensibly. She brought the plate, loaded with chicken and assorted roasted vegetables, to the kitchen table and set it down in front of Percy. "You practically just started there. Your hours shouldn't be longer than his. It makes no sense!"

"Calm down, Mother. This is a good thing. It's an opportunity for me to prove myself to Mr. Crouch." Percy shoved potatoes into his mouth and asked, "You doe whud Midder Crouch shaysh?"

"Look at that," said Molly, shaking her head at Percy. "Talking with his mouth full." She threw up her hands. "Barely a week, and look what this new job has done to your table manners."

Percy quickly chewed and swallowed. "I'm sorry, Mother, I have to be quick here. I have to get to bed because Mr. Crouch needs me at his home bright and early."

Molly sighed and took a seat next to Percy. "I'm sure he does."

"He says I'm astute. And smart. He says I pay attention where others don't."

"Well, of course you do." Molly reached up and stroked the back of Percy's head. "You've always been a very attentive boy."

"And he's noticed! He's a very busy and important man, Mother, but he's noticed aspects of my performance. Do you know what that means?"

"That he's not as obtuse as he appears," Molly said flatly. "Has he learned your name yet?"

Percy suddenly decided to take his time and chew his food thoroughly. When he finally swallowed, he said in a low voice, "That's not the point."

"Well," Molly said, standing up again, "I don't see why you have to work with him in his home, adding all these extra hours. We never see you anymore. You're tired all the time. You go around muttering to yourself about broom bristles and Canada –"

Percy quickly wiped his mouth and looked up at his mother. "I'm fine, Mum. I swear it. I'm better than fine; I'm on my way! My career is really beginning! This is a _springboard_. If I do well here, do you have any idea how many other avenues will open up for me? You'll see." He gave her a smile and a little wink and then turned back to his plate. He pushed another forkful of food into his mouth and said, "Dish ish gonna be sho good fo' me."

Percy wasn't looking at his mother as he inhaled his dinner, but he could practically feel her worried stare pressing holes into the back of his skull. He then felt her hand touch his hair again and linger there, petting him. He didn't protest. He kept on eating in silence and just let her touch him, even closed his eyes as her nails gently scratched at the base of his hairline.

"Well, now I know you must be tired," she said. "You don't normally let anyone touch you like this."

"Well..." He just shrugged and trailed off and kept on eating.

"I think I like you like this."

Percy swallowed. "I did when I was little. Let you cuddle me."

"Yeah, you did."

Neither of them spoke for a while after that, but then suddenly the silent calm was broken by another muffled explosion from above. Both Percy and Molly tensed and looked upward.

"Those two," Molly muttered angrily. "Don't they know what time it is. Damn..." Her hand dropped away from Percy's neck and she turned and hurried out of the kitchen. "Put out the lights before you go up, dear," she called back as she sped away.

"Night, Mum," he called over his shoulder as she disappeared into the dark. He sat, still and quiet, listening to the house creak beneath her feet as she retreated up the stairs, listened to her trying to get into the twins' room to no avail, listened to the ensuing argument when the twins finally let her in. Percy finished his dinner and headed up to bed, finding the second-floor hallway deserted by the time he got up there.

 

* * *

By the end of his first week at the Crouch house, Percy's confidence in his decision to take the job had been bolstered. He'd learned Mr. Crouch's morning and evening routines and had integrated himself so thoroughly, that Winky, Mr. Crouch's house elf, had even begun calling him "Master Percy", which Percy rather liked.

Even the mysterious noises that occasionally issued from the house's second floor weren't so bothersome anymore. Mr. Crouch said he'd recently acquired a ghost who refused to leave, and to pay it no mind.

But the one thing Percy could not, for the life of him, grow accustomed to was the occasional feeling that he was being watched.

It was the Friday evening of Percy's first week, and Percy was in Mr. Crouch's home office, surrounded by leather-bound books and supple, black leather furniture. Mr. Crouch's high-backed desk chair sat empty just across the room from the couch Percy occupied. He was perched on the edge of the cushion, hunched over and frowning down at the many leaves of parchment he had scattered across the marble coffee table. He was reading and re-reading and scribbling notes and fretting over the details of the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. Portkeys had been organised, arrival times had been regulated, ample space for camp sites had been reserved, and now Percy was going over every minor detail, ensuring nothing overlapped, cancelled out or interfered with anything else.

With a heavy sigh, Percy flopped back against the backrest, removed his glasses and dug the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. He was tired, he was hungry, and his own handwriting was beginning to look like meaningless scribbles to him. He had an inkling of the time, but he didn't bother checking to be sure. He knew he was missing another family dinner.

And that _creaking_. From the second floor, right above Percy's head, there was an incessant creaking noise, as of the pacing footsteps of an impatient house guest. Normally, Percy could ignore it. Tonight it was driving him absolutely mental.

Percy wondered when Mr. Crouch would return. He'd gone back to the Ministry, having forgotten some important documents in his office, leaving Percy alone with Winky and The Creak. Perhaps when he returned, Percy would be dismissed. Percy hoped he got back soon. The last thing he needed was for Mr. Crouch to turn up and find him, Percy, fast asleep and drooling on his expensive couch.

The minutes ticked by, and after a while The Creak ceased. It was a while before Percy realised it wasn't there anymore. He sat up and listened. He heard nothing except the ticking of a the wall clock. A chill ran down his spine, and he wasn't sure why. He wondered if he could get some work done now, but as soon as he hunched over the coffee table again, he froze. Something wasn't right.

 _Stop it,_ Percy scolded himself. _The insufferable noise has stopped, you should be happy._ And he _was_ relieved, but now it was too quiet and it felt as though there was something in the room with him. This was typical; when The Creak went away, The Presence would turn up.

Percy looked around the room. There was no one there but him. He glanced at the door, which stood open, and saw the top half of Winky's face peering in at him, which made him jump. She quickly pulled her head out of sight and he heard her little footsteps retreating.

Just then the doorbell sounded throughout the house, which made Percy jump again. He rolled his eyes at his own bothersome nerves.

Well, that was that. He was completely distracted now. He slammed his quill down on top of the blanket of jumbled-up parchment on the coffee table and stood. He stretched and wandered over to the office door to shut it, but just as he reached out to grab the door handle, he felt a soft breeze from nowhere waft over him. It felt like someone had gone past him, out of the room. He froze just as Winky hurried past on her way to the front door, and he scanned the room for possible sources of the mysterious breeze. He saw nothing that was plausible.

He heard voices, one belonging to Winky, and another, which sounded familiar. He forgot about the breeze and quietly shut the office door.

The voice was female and just shrill enough to set Percy's teeth on edge. Percy put his ear to the door and listened. Someone from work, he decided, though no one from his department. Name started with a B. Betty. Brenda. Bethyl... Bertha! How could Percy forget? He'd been subjected to her gossipy rambling on more than one occasion.

What was Bertha Jorkins doing here at this hour? Percy listened harder. Winky had let her inside, and now Percy could hear their conversation a little better as the elf led Bertha to the sitting room.

"I can't believe I missed him," said Bertha. "And he went back to the Ministry, you say? Damn, I could've stayed right where I was. Do you know when he'll be back? It really is important I get these documents signed."

Winky squeaked something back at her that Percy didn't catch. After that, there was silence.

Percy wondered if he should go out and say hello. He didn't care for that idea much. He wandered away from the door, deciding to stay put. He was far too tired to deal with Bertha Jorkins. All he had to do was stay where he was, remain perfectly quiet and –

Just then Percy heard Bertha's voice again, this time louder and almost urgent. Something was wrong.

"Who was that in the kitchen with you?" Bertha demanded.

"No one, Miss," Winky squeaked, sounding terrified. "There is no one."

"There is! I heard him! He said 'my father'. His _father_? Mr. Crouch? Barty Crouch only had one child and he's _supposed_ to be buried in Azkaban!"

"No, Miss, Winky swears it was no one," whimpered the elf. "There is no one. No one... please..."

Percy had moved back to the door without even realising it. Surely Bertha didn't know what she was talking about. There was no one else in the house except the ghost. Perhaps that's who she'd heard, though the ghost had never shown itself or spoken to Percy. Percy suddenly wondered if the ghost was Barty Jr. come back to haunt the man who'd put him away.

Bertha was becoming more and more adamant that Bartemius Crouch Jr. was currently in the kitchen, her voice becoming more shrill by the second. Percy stood facing the door, staring at it. He'd have to go out there. He'd have to do something. He'd have to go and calm the woman down and escort her out. As Mr. Crouch's Personal Assistant, it was his duty to make sure this disturbance did not exist for his boss.

With a deep, fortifying breath, Percy puffed out his chest, grasped the door handle, turned it, and then stopped dead when he heard a loud _crack_. Winky and Bertha had stopped speaking as well. Mr. Crouch had returned.

"What's going on?" Percy heard him demand. Percy very slowly released the door handle and held his breath.

Bertha spoke first, and then Winky, whose little voice could barely be heard over Bertha's ear-splitting accusations. Percy stood there wondering if the onslaught would ever end, if he would, in fact, have to go out there and help bring order. Why wasn't Mr. Crouch saying anything? Why was he allowing Bertha to stand there and accuse him of something so preposterous?

But then the voices stopped, and Mr. Crouch finally spoke. Percy had to lean closer to the door to properly hear his low voice.

"Bertha. How nice of you to drop by."

Percy frowned. After all that commotion, _that_ was the first thing Mr. Crouch had to say?

"Has Winky offered you any refreshment?"

"Er, yes, she has," Bertha replied, sounding as confused as Percy felt. "Mr. Crouch, have you heard what I've said?"

"Of course, Bertha, I've heard every word. Why don't you join me in the sitting room? Winky, go on into the kitchen and... tidy up a bit."

The elf squeaked an acknowledgement, and then there was nothing but the sound of footsteps as the three individuals departed. Percy listened harder, but heard nothing.

For the next five minutes, Percy paced and paced, and The Creak returned to the floor above. Percy thought he should get back to work, but there was no way he could concentrate now. And then he heard Mr. Crouch speak again.

"It's all right. Happens to the best of us."

Percy rushed to the office door again to listen.

"You know, sometimes I'll walk from my office to the kitchen and completely forget what it was I wanted by the time I get there," Mr. Crouch chuckled.

"This is so unlike me," said Bertha, sounding considerably more subdued. "I'm not normally a forgetful person."

"Might your visit have something to do with the folder you're carrying."

There was a pause, and then, "You know, I think it does. Hang on... Yes, I believe I came by to get your signature on some documents."

"Ah! Well, we can take care of that easily enough."

A few seconds later there was a cheerful goodbye. Percy heard the front door close and then more footsteps, hushed conversation, more squeaking from Winky, and The Creak upstairs. Percy realised almost too late that he probably shouldn't be standing behind the door when Mr. Crouch finally came back into his office. Percy scurried back to the couch and furrowed his brow at the pile of parchment. Mr. Crouch entered the room a split second later.

"Weatherby!" Mr. Crouch said a little too brightly. When Percy looked up at him, Crouch's face was a little redder than it should've been and a few locks of hair were a bit out of place. He stepped into the room and shut the door. Percy noticed he was carrying his wand in his hand.

"Is everything all right, sir?" asked Percy.

"Yes, of course everything's all right. Why wouldn't everything be all right? I'm sorry for the delay. Had a visitor. Bertha Jorkins. You know her. Documents... had to sign..."

"Right." Percy gathered up all the sheets of parchment, quickly put them in order and stood. "Well, I think I'm finished here, sir. Unless there's something else you'd like me to take care of before I go."

"No, I don't think so," said Mr. Crouch. He seemed distracted. He wasn't looking at Percy, instead frowning down at the stack of papers in Percy's hands. When his eyes popped back up to Percy's face, they held the barest hint of suspicion. "Were you disturbed at all while I was gone?"

"Me?" Percy asked innocently. "No, sir. No one bothered me. I mean Winky didn't bother me. Nor did Bertha. I'm sure Bertha didn't even know I was here."

"Yes... yes, all right, then. You may go. Just set those over there in the tray."

"Yes, sir." Percy stepped over to the large mahogany desk, laid the stack of parchment in the tray, turned, and with a nod and a polite "good evening", he quickly left the room.

 

* * *

The weekend came, and while Percy wasn't technically supposed to be working, Mr. Crouch still required him to run a few errands for him. Percy returned to the Crouch house Saturday afternoon after a morning of running around. He had Mr. Crouch's dress robes in a garment bag slung over his left arm, a paper bag from the local chip shop containing Mr. Crouch's lunch in his left hand and several folders he'd had to fetch from Mr. Crouch's office at the Ministry tucked under his right arm.

"Hello, Master Percy, sir," squeaked Winky as she let Percy into the house.

"Hello, Winky."

She immediately held her arms up to take the things from Percy. He tried not to sigh; they went through this almost everyday.

"Winky, as I've told you a million times before, Mr. Crouch hired me to do a job and I've got to do it. I can't have you doing it for me. That doesn't make me look very good, now does it?"

"But Master Percy has more important things to be doing for Master Crouch," Winky protested. "Master Percy _is_ important. Too important to be serving Master Crouch his lunch. That is Winky's job."

"Well... you may have a point there," Percy said, standing up a bit straighter. "All right, then. Here, you take these." He offered her Mr. Crouch's lunch and the folders. The paper bag was nearly half the size she was. She held it in the crook of her arm while she balanced the folders on her head. "Arrange his lunch nicely on a plate and bring it and the folders to him," he instructed unnecessarily. "I'll take his robes up to his room."

"Yes, Master Percy." Winky said. "Master is waiting in his office for you," she called back to him as she toddled off to the kitchen.

Percy headed up the winding, wooden staircase and went into the master bedroom. The curtains were closed, so the room was somewhat dark even though the early afternoon sun was shining in full force. Percy had noticed that the windows in every room of the house remained covered at all times. He thought this strange, but never asked about it. It wasn't his business. The four-poster bed was neatly made with simple white sheets. Nothing was even a little bit out of place. All the clothing was hidden away in the closet and the drawers, all the items on the dresser were neatly lined up, grouped according to function, lines parallel to those of the dresser. In fact everything in the room was parallel to everything else. Percy couldn't help but admire the set up. This was what a boss's bedroom ought to look like; classic, simple, tidy.

He went to the closet, opened it and hung the garment bag inside. He shut the ornately carved double doors and was about to turn to leave when he felt The Presence again. He froze, facing the closet, his back to the room. He felt as though someone was just behind him, just _right there_ , moving closer, raising an arm and stretching fingers toward him, about to grab him at any second, any second now it would _get him_ , if he didn't run soon it would be too late, five seconds... four seconds... three... two... one...

Nothing happened, of course. Percy slowly let out the breath he was holding. His heart was pounding in his ears. He inwardly cursed his mutinous body for showing fear.

And then the softest puff of warm air brushed the back of his neck.

He shivered from head to foot. When he spun around, he pressed his back flat to the closet doors. His adrenaline had sky-rocketed and his eyes darted frantically around the room. There was no one there.

Ghosts didn't breathe. And they couldn't make breezes as they went by either. Could they? No, the sensation of a ghost passing by was very different. Colder. Deader.

But Percy still wasn't convinced he was alone. He slowly reached out toward the empty space before him. He extended his arm all the way. His fingers met no resistance.

As he reached out, he heard a tiny little gasp. He felt like his heart stopped for a moment, but then he realised that the gasp had come from the wrong direction; not from directly in front of him, but from the bedroom doorway. He glanced over at it and was just in time to see a large elf ear disappearing from view. Little footsteps retreated down the hall. Percy let out another breath that he'd been holding and hurried from the room.

He heard Mr. Crouch before he saw him, heard him clear his throat. Percy crept to the top of the spiral staircase, peered over the banister and saw his boss standing at the foot of the stairs. Percy froze and could do nothing but stand there dumbly while Mr. Crouch slowly raised his eyes to meet Percy's.

"Weatherby," said Mr. Crouch in a low voice.

Percy gulped again. "Mr. Crouch. Sir. I was just putting your dress robes upstairs for you."

"Took quite a while doing it."

"I... got... lost." Percy winced as soon as he said it. "No. No, of course I didn't."

"No," said Mr. Crouch, looking down for a moment. He exhaled heavily, puffing out his cheeks. "Come down to the office," he finally said, turning and walking away. "Winky's made tea."

Percy's heart was hammering. He followed Mr. Crouch with his chin up, refusing to look guilty. He hadn't done anything wrong, after all. Mr. Crouch never had any problem sending him upstairs before. Of course, Mr. Crouch hadn't sent him upstairs this time. But still, there had been something menial that needed to be done and Percy had done it. Wasn't that partially what Mr. Crouch had hired him for?

Mr. Crouch went in and sat at his desk. He turned his big, black leather chair around so it faced the couch and the coffee table where the tea had been set up. Percy walked, straight-backed, into the office and took his usual seat.

"Please, help yourself," said Mr. Crouch, picking up his own tea and sipping. Percy, determined to act as though nothing was wrong, helped himself to a couple of little sandwiches and began preparing a cup for himself.

"So, my dress robes are ready, are they?"

"Yes, sir. Didn't Winky tell you?"

"Yes, she did. Told me you'd taken them upstairs."

Percy relaxed a bit.

"Several minutes ago."

Percy tensed up again, narrowly avoiding spilling his tea.

"And as much as I'd like a house large enough to get lost in, I'm stuck with this one, I'm afraid."

"Yes, sir."

"So, you weren't lost."

"No, sir."

"What were you doing?" Mr. Crouch sat back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other.

"I got distracted. I felt like I was being watched." Percy decided honesty was the best policy here. Besides, he couldn't think of anything else to say. "I didn't investigate, but I did stay up there longer than I should have and I apologise."

"Why did you stay up there?"

"Curiosity, I suppose, sir."

"Mm. Tell me," said Mr. Crouch, leaning forward and taking one of the little sandwiches, "did you happen to hear the conversations Winky and I had with Bertha Jorkins last night?"

"I might've heard a snippet or two," Percy admitted.

"Have you put two and two together yet?"

Percy stared at him. Surely, he didn't mean... "I'm sorry, sir?"

"Let's not play dumb," said Mr. Crouch with a no-nonsense tone that made Percy's stomach drop.

"I... I'm not playing dumb, sir. I just wanted to clarify your meaning. To avoid saying something more than I needed to."

Mr. Crouch stared at him, still as a statue, for a few seconds. Percy thought surely he'd said something wrong, but then Mr. Crouch smiled at him.

"I appreciate your honesty," he said. "I admire your bluntness."

"Er, thank you."

"Now, then. I take it from your response that you know everything."

"I wouldn't say that, sir."

"Oh, I think you know plenty. Perhaps not _everything_ per se, but..." Mr. Crouch narrowed his eyes at Percy. "You know the things that matter. You know who else is living in this house, don't you?"

Percy hesitated. "I have some ideas that I don't know whether to believe or not."

"Understandable. But if we're talking about the same person, then believe it."

Percy had no idea what to say to that. He was silent for several seconds while Mr. Crouch sipped tea.

"Mr. Crouch?"

"Yes?"

Percy licked his lips and sat a bit forward. "May I ask you something? Off the record."

"Yes, of course."

"And if I'm completely off here, we can forget I ever said anything and it won't affect our relationship or my career?"

"Very well. What is it?"

Percy took a deep breath. "Are you harbouring your son, Barty Jr., in this house?"

"I am."

Percy blinked at him. He hadn't expected such a straightforward admission. "You are?"

"Yes."

"Barty Crouch Jr.?"

"I have no other children, Weatherby."

Percy's mind reeled. "I thought he was dead."

"Then the plan worked, didn't it?" said Mr. Crouch rather cryptically.

"But he was buried in Azkaban. It was in the papers, wasn't it?"

"The details aren't really important, are they? The point is he's here. And you now know it." Mr. Crouch finished his tea and set his cup down on the coffee table. He stood and stretched and wandered over to one of his bookshelves. "How does the Canadian national anthem go again?"

Percy frowned. "I'll look it up later, sir. Why haven't I seen him yet?"

"Well, I can't very well have him wandering around the house without hiding him somehow, can I? He stays under an Invisibility Cloak at all times."

Of course, thought Percy. So, it wasn't a ghost who'd been stalking him all over the house. Well, considering everybody believed Barty Jr. to be dead, Percy supposed he was a ghost of sorts. "Why is he here?" he asked.

"Hiding, of course."

"Well, yes, but why are you hiding him? I thought you'd denounced him, you wanted nothing to do with him."

"Yes, well," said Mr. Crouch as he browsed his books. "My wife had other ideas." He selected a leather-bound burgundy book and frowned at it. "Time to get this re-bound, I think."

"I'll take care of it, sir. Your wife wanted you to hide him here?"

"Yes. It was her dying wish. Couldn't bear to die knowing he was going to rot in prison. Rather unfair, really. How do you say 'no' to someone who's about to die?"

Percy could think of several snappy comebacks to that question. "How long has this been going on?"

"Years. Over ten now."

"Over a _decade_?" Percy asked incredulously.

Mr. Crouch glanced back at Percy. "Yes, that's what I said." He turned away again and put the book back on the shelf.

"How did you manage that? Did Barty agree to this? Is his allegiance to You-Know-Who over? How can you trust him? What if the Death Eaters find out and come looking for him? What if –"

"Shh, shh, shh, calm down, Weatherby," Mr. Crouch hushed him with another glance back at him.

"Calm _down_? You've got a known Death Eater – one who, far as we know, is still loyal to You-Know-Who - _living in your home_!"

"Weatherby." Mr. Crouch turned completely away from the bookshelf and glared down at Percy. Percy shut his mouth. "Please calm down. Have some more tea. Eat something. Those chips you brought back from the shop aren't quite fresh enough. Have those if you like. And ask for fresh ones next time."

"I'm not hungry, thank you," said Percy distractedly. "How could this happen? And how do you expect me to keep working for you under these circumstances?"

Mr. Crouch shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "I've already told you how it happened."

"Well, yes, but pardon me, sir, 'it was my dying wife's last wish' hardly cuts it when it comes to Death Eaters."

Mr. Crouch narrowed his eyes at Percy. Percy gulped again.

"I'm just saying, sir."

"You wouldn't understand. As for how I expect you to continue working for me, well... we both know you're not going anywhere."

Percy raised his eyebrows. "I'm sorry?"

"Barty is harmless. He's been Imperiused, he's docile as a kitten. You wouldn't risk your career for someone who's completely harmless, would you? No, you're smarter than that. If Barty was a threat, I could understand you turning in your resignation right this second, but he isn't, and if you quit now you'll always wonder. When you're frying up those chips for customers rather than fetching them for your boss, you'll wonder; should you have stayed? Was it worth it to give up everything for a secret that doesn't even affect you?" Mr. Crouch shook his head. "I thought you were smart. I thought you understood when to speak up and when to keep your mouth shut. I thought I'd found a diamond in the rough, someone I could be proud of." Mr. Crouch looked down and sighed. "Perhaps I was mistaken."

Percy shifted in his seat and looked down. Mr. Crouch had been proud of him. And he did have a point, Percy thought. It had been over ten years and nothing had gone wrong yet, no one had discovered Barty Jr.'s presence here except himself, and that was only because he was there nearly everyday.

But then there was Bertha.

"What about Bertha Jorkins?" Percy asked. "What did you tell her?"

Mr. Crouch met his eyes again and said quietly, "I simply impressed upon her how very wrong she was."

Percy stared at him, barely daring to breathe.

"So? Have I been wrong about you? Are you not the sharp young man I'd pegged you for? Are you prone to panic over nothing like so many of the weak and simple-minded people who work around us?"

Percy wasn't sure what to say. Surely, if Percy told someone what he knew, he'd be praised, promoted, rewarded far beyond what Mr. Crouch was giving him now. But what if it backfired? What if Mr. Crouch was able to hide Barty Jr. elsewhere during the ensuing investigation? No one would believe Percy without solid evidence, not after the spectacle that had been Mr. Crouch sending his only son to Azkaban.

It was definitely a safer bet to stay put. And wasn't it good that Barty was locked up _somewhere_? Of course it was.

Percy stood up, held his chin up and looked Mr. Crouch in the eye. "No, you were right. I know better. I'm not going anywhere, sir."

Mr. Crouch's demeanour relaxed a bit and he nodded. "Good. I knew I'd made the right choice."

Percy resisted the urge to smile proudly.

Mr. Crouch took a few steps toward Percy until they were nearly chest to chest. "My situation isn't going to interfere with your job or your conscience, is it?"

"No, sir. I trust your judgement. If you say it won't be an issue, I believe you."

Mr. Crouch gave him a single nod. "Good. Excellent. Right." At that, he turned away and went back to his desk. "Now, about that national anthem..."

 

* * *

The one problem with the notion that Barty Jr.'s presence wouldn't interfere with Percy's job performance was that it did. Percy tried not to let it show, but he'd become hyper-aware of Barty's presence in the house. He knew when Barty was upstairs, when Barty was in the loo, when Barty was in the kitchen, when Barty was in the basement. Percy came to crave the sounds of the house creaking, or the sound of Winky murmuring softly, because it meant that Barty was occupied somewhere where Percy wasn't. It meant he was upstairs pacing in a room, or in the kitchen with Winky, and not skulking under his cloak in Mr. Crouch's office, watching Percy work, which he still did far too often. Percy did his best to ignore it. At least now he knew what The Presence was.

"Weatherby," said Mr. Crouch on one particularly late evening during Percy's second week of service at his home. He was sitting at his desk, his back to Percy, who was in his usual spot on the couch. "Mind popping into the kitchen and fetching that map of the World Cup camp grounds for me? I'm sure that's where I left it. On the island, I think."

When Percy hesitated, Mr. Crouch turned his face enough for Percy to see his profile.

"Weatherby?"

"Yes, sir," Percy finally said, standing up. "Right. Be right back."

Percy stood and slipped out of the office, eyes instantly scanning the area for signs of movement in the shadows. He stepped away from the door and hurried to the empty kitchen. Like the other rooms in the house, its curtains were drawn shut.

He stepped cautiously into the dim space, which was lit only by light that spilled inside from the torches in the hall. His eyes were trained on the island at the kitchen's centre. He refused to let himself look around, refused to indulge his silly paranoia any further. He went straight for the island, picked up the large, rolled-up sheet of parchment, spun around and headed out again, back toward the light.

The softest sound, as of a bare foot scraping lightly against the kitchen floor, made Percy stop in the kitchen's doorway. He slowly turned his head and peered at the darkness behind him. He wanted to call out for Winky, make sure it was only her, but he couldn't make himself speak.

The soft scraping sounded again and again. This time Percy could see the dark outline of a man moving in his periphery. Barty was approaching.

"Are you lost?" asked a soft, mocking rasp of a voice.

Percy turned back toward the darkness and peered in at the human-shaped shadow. "I'm sorry?"

The shadow kept coming closer. "I said are you lost?"

"No, of course not."

"Must be. Don't see my father anywhere about. Isn't that what you do? Trot around after him like a lovesick puppy?"

Percy's mouth moved, but he said nothing. He found himself instinctively backing away as Barty drew nearer. Soon Barty had walked into the cast-off torchlight and Percy could see his pale face with its narrow, empty-looking cheeks and haunted eyes, and his blond mop of hair which stuck up at odd angles.

"Doesn't your own father pay you any attention?" Barty cooed tauntingly at him, still advancing. "Is that what your deal is? Your own father a disappointment? Gotta come and try to take mine? Well, you could do a right sight better than Father Crouch, I can tell you that. Oh, wait..." A sinister smile spread across Barty's face, which loomed closer and closer until he'd backed Percy right up against a wall. "It's not just you, is it? It's him too. My father _wants_ you around. The Substitute Son, that's what you are."

Percy's eyes scanned Barty's face, darting from the dark circles that framed his sardonic gaze to the little freckles that dotted his nose and cheeks. He was a little shorter than Percy, and slender, though not as slender as Percy. Physically, he was nothing to be scared of. Percy trembled up against the wall all the same.

"I'm just the assistant," Percy managed to whisper as Barty drew even closer until they were nose to nose. Barty examined him as though he was an interesting bug. Percy pressed back against the wall as snugly as he could and turned his face away.

"Oh, no, no, no," murmured Barty, his hot breath wafting over Percy's neck. "No, you're much more than that. Perfect, clean and unspoiled. You're shiny and new, aren't ya? A blank slate. Eager to learn. Eager to follow. Not like me. I was never like _him_ enough." Barty let out a low chuckle that made Percy's skin crawl. "Thank fuck for that, I say."

"I-I thought you were supposed to b-be Imperiused," Percy stammered.

"Was. Am sometimes. But no spell can hold me for long these days... My, my, look at you tremble."

Percy had turned his face away as much as he could, but he didn't have to see Barty's face to know that Barty was smiling; he could hear it in the man's voice and he was now practically vibrating with excitement, as though Percy was a particularly wonderful discovery.

"You are a pretty, young thing," Barty said, and Percy's skin crawled even more as Barty moved in closer. He pressed his nose and mouth right up against Percy's cheek and he whispered, "I can make you tremble even more than this, Pretty Thing. I can make you squirm and moan my name."

Percy shut his eyes. He should call for help or run away or _something_ , but he was glued to the spot, too terrified to move or make a noise louder than a whisper. He flinched as Barty's mouth pressed into his skin. He whimpered as the entire length of Barty's body pushed against him, pinning him to the wall, pushing parts of Barty against him that Percy didn't want to think about.

"You even _smell_ like the perfect son," Barty hissed against Percy's neck. "Like books and ink and fresh linens." He nudged his crotch more firmly against Percy's thigh. "I'd like to dirty you up a bit, I think."

"Weatherby?" called Mr. Crouch from his office. "Can't you find it?"

"Answer him," whispered Barty. "Tell him you're playing with your new big brother."

"Master Barty, NO!" came a horrified little shriek from deeper inside the kitchen. Barty slowly turned to peer over his shoulder, and Percy took the opportunity to slip away from him, sliding along the wall, out from underneath his weight, and then he slowly backed away from him.

Winky, who must've come in through an entrance Percy didn't know about, waved a hand toward the walls and a few torches burst into flame. Her large eyes were fixed on Barty and she was advancing on him.

"What is you doing out of your room?" she demanded. "What is you doing with Master Percy?"

Barty grinned menacingly at Percy. "Oh, _Master_ Percy, is it? Made yourself right at home, haven't you? You'll be sleeping in my bed next, won't you?"

There was more than a little suggestiveness in Barty's tone. Percy gulped, but said nothing.

"Master Percy is busy working for your father, you should not delay him!" Winky moved toward Percy and began shooing him from the room. "Go! Master Crouch is waiting!"

"What is going on?" demanded a deep, disgruntled voice. Mr. Crouch had joined them now and stood just inside the doorway, peering around at them all. When his eyes landed on his son, his expression turned colder than Percy had ever seen it. "What are _you_ doing up here?" He looked from Barty to Percy, then back again. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, Father," said Barty with a wicked grin. "Just saying hello to my replacement."

"Your replacement?" Mr. Crouch said, glowering at him. "Don't be daft. Get back downstairs and stay there. Weatherby!"

Percy jumped. "Y-yes, sir?"

"Back in the office, _now_." Mr. Crouch turned his cold gaze back on his son as he said to Percy, "He won't be bothering you again. I'll see to that."

"Yes, sir." Percy headed jerkily for the hallway. He passed by Mr. Crouch without meeting his eyes, not that Mr. Crouch was watching him anyway; he was too busy boring holes in Barty Jr.'s head with his disdainful glare. Percy glanced back only once as he departed. What he saw was Barty Jr.'s evil leer focused squarely on his, Percy's, lower half. Winky was also watching him, but with a strange, contemplative look in her big, brown eyes.

 

* * *

It was at least ten minutes before Mr. Crouch returned to his office. Feeling particularly jumpy after his encounter with Barty Jr., Percy nearly flew off the couch and hit the ceiling when the door finally opened.

"What's the matter with you?" asked Mr. Crouch, frowning at Percy as he entered; Percy was clutching his chest and breathing harder than normal.

"Nothing," Percy muttered, taking his hand from his chest and looking down sheepishly. He tried to look busy, gathering the papers he'd been reading into a tidy stack and then shuffling through them as though looking for something.

"What did he say to you?" asked Mr. Crouch.

Percy looked up at him, trying to look ignorant. "Hm?"

Mr. Crouch went and sat in his chair and watched Percy sombrely. "What did Barty say to you?"

"Nothing, sir." Percy saw no point in being honest here. He couldn't let Mr. Crouch know that Barty Jr. had gotten to him.

"Did he do anything to you? The way Winky yelled at him, he must've done something."

"No, sir. Nothing."

Mr. Crouch was scrutinising him again. Percy couldn't hold his gaze. He looked down almost guiltily, afraid Mr. Crouch would see, in his eyes, what he was thinking. For the last ten minutes, all Percy had been able to think about was Barty Jr.'s body pinning him to the wall in the dark, Barty's mouth pressed to his face, Barty's groin, hard and bulging, mashed up against his thigh, Barty's soft, raspy voice promising to make him tremble. Percy shifted in his seat; his own body was betraying him. He hoped Mr. Crouch wasn't going to ask him to stand any time soon.

"You can be honest with me," said Mr. Crouch. Percy met his eyes again. Was he really supposed to tell his boss that his son had essentially molested him? Percy was fully aware that Barty was known to have done far worse than rub up against an unwilling individual, but still; Mr. Crouch had quite enough to be getting on with without this.

"I'm not sure what to say," Percy said honestly. "Nothing happened, really. He just... pestered me a bit."

"Pestered you."

"Yes. He seems to be a tad unstable, but I suppose being a Death Eater, being locked up in Azkaban, imprisoned in one's own home and Imperiused for over a decade will do that to you."

"Well, Barty's always been a bit... off." Mr. Crouch sighed heavily. "You know what? It's late. It's been a long day. Go home. We can pick up again tomorrow, yes?" Mr. Crouch gave Percy a tight-lipped little smile and stood. Percy stood as well, feeling uncertain.

"Are you sure? I can stay, I'm fine."

Mr. Crouch shook his head. "Tomorrow. You'll come straight here after leaving the Ministry and get back to work. I'll have to meet you here a bit later on, as I'll have... business to attend to elsewhere first. Winky will let you in. She'll ensure that Barty is safely locked away." Mr. Crouch smiled a little too broadly as he approached and patted Percy on the back. Percy wondered if this was the same face Bertha had seen as she was escorted from the house the night she'd visited.

 

* * *

When Percy Apparated into the Burrow, all was dark except for a faint light coming from the garage that could be seen from the kitchen window. It was either his father or the twins, Percy knew that much. He was too tired to care much. He was just glad whoever was up was outside.

He got himself a glass of water and gulped it down. His mouth and throat had felt terribly dry since his encounter with Barty Jr. He drained his glass, lowered it from his mouth and leaned forward against the kitchen counter on his free hand.

"There you are."

Percy yelped and nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around to find his father standing at the kitchen's entrance.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you like that," said his father.

Percy waved a hand at him. "No, it's fine. I'm just tired."

"That seems like more than just tiredness to me." Arthur came in and stood next to Percy, and Percy finally noticed how dirty Arthur was; his shirt, trousers, hands and even his face were covered in black smudges.

"What have you been doing?" asked Percy.

"I was going to ask you the same question. Why are you sauntering in later and later every night?"

"Don't change the subject," Percy said firmly, standing up straighter. He gestured at the smudges. "What's all this? This looks terribly familiar."

"It's a shirt."

"Very funny. What's _on_ the shirt? And your hands and face? You used to come inside looking like this when you had that infernal..." Percy trailed off. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. "Oh, no, you didn't."

"It's only a small one this time," Arthur assured him. "Something called a _Beetle_." He grinned. "Kinda looks like a bug too, come to think of it."

"Mother's going to hex you."

"Not if you don't tell her, she won't. She never goes into the garage."

"You don't think she'll notice when you turn up to dinner tomorrow looking like a chimney sweep?"

"Relax, will you?" Arthur grabbed his wand from his pocket and quickly spelled his hands and clothes clean. "I'll handle the car, you just make sure not to mention it to anyone."

"I'm not going to lie. If she asks –"

"She won't ask you, don't worry. Now about the time."

"Oh, it's not that late," Percy grumbled, getting himself some more water.

"What's he have you doing at his house anyway?"

"My job... You've still got a little something..." He pointed at the smudges still on Arthur's face. Arthur set to work trying to spell them away, though he wasn't very successful, as he couldn't see himself.

"Is he overworking you? You're tired all the time."

"I'm just stressed. Between the World Cup and the Tri-Wizard, I barely have time to stop and eat, let alone sleep."

"You have the right to tell him when you need a break, you know."

"No, I can't!" _I can't even tell him my name,_ Percy thought. "Look, complainers don't move up. They stay right where they are and never accomplish anything. Life isn't about being comfortable, it's about – Oh, hold still a minute, _I'll_ do it!" With an exasperated sigh, Percy pulled out his own wand, pointed it at Arthur's face, said _Scourgify_ and easily removed the remaining smudges. "I'm fine, is my point," he said as he lowered his wand. "All this hard work will pay off in the end."

Arthur touched his face and then looked at his fingers to check that no more grease had come off on them. "Thanks, Perce."

"You're welcome."

"Well, we're worried about you, is all I'm saying."

Percy sighed again and sagged against the edge of the counter. "Dad, can I ask you something?"

"Course." Arthur leaned back against the counter too, crossed his arms and looked with concern at his son.

"Well, you know I've been working in Mr. Crouch's home. And it's been great, a really excellent learning experience," Percy added quickly as Arthur's forehead began to furrow. "There's nothing wrong, per se –"

"Per se?"

"There's nothing wrong," Percy said firmly. "It's just that... well... when you work very closely with someone, you might learn certain things about his life that you never expected, things that you might find somewhat... objectionable."

"Go on."

"There's nothing wrong," Percy repeated. "It's like... you and your obsession with Muggle things. Some people object to that quite strongly."

"Idiots, Percy. We call them idiots."

Percy shot him a look. "You should call them respected colleagues. Many of them are your co-workers and superiors, Dad."

"Oh, believe me, I am aware," Arthur said darkly. "So, you've learned things about Mr. Crouch that you don't agree with?"

"Perhaps."

"And these things are making it difficult for you to do your job?"

 _You have no idea,_ Percy thought. "No, not exactly. It's just... could you continue to work for someone, in his home with him, if you really didn't agree with certain aspects of his life?"

Arthur frowned more as he considered. "Is it something that's right out in the open, in your face everyday?"

"Not exactly, but I'm fully aware that it's there."

"It's not something illegal, is it?"

Percy's mouth twitched and he forced himself to hold Arthur's gaze. "No."

"Well, I guess it all depends on what it is and how much you object to it. I will say this: I wouldn't write someone off simply because they live a life that I don't agree with."

Percy searched Arthur's face. "Do you think I would?"

"Honestly? I don't know. You can be very judgemental sometimes, Percy."

Percy looked away and crossed his arms. "Well, pardon me for having convictions."

Arthur chuckled. "No one faults you for that. I love that about you, I love that you have strong opinions and don't let others bully you out of them. You could just learn to relax a little sometimes. Not that I'm trying to tell you that you should accept whatever it was you're asking about. I don't even know what it is, after all."

Percy nodded. "I know."

Out of the corner of his eye, Percy could see Arthur studying him. He glanced at his father uncertainly.

"Thanks for asking," said Arthur with a soft smile.

Percy frowned. "For asking what?"

"What you asked me. Thanks for asking for my advice."

"Oh... well... you're welcome."

"It's been a while since you asked my advice. I was starting to think you'd discounted me as that barmy old fool who lives in the garage."

Percy couldn't help but smile, but he didn't disagree.

"Did I help you at all?"

Percy considered. "Yes. Yes, I think so. Thank you."

With a big smile, Arthur patted Percy on the back and then headed out of the kitchen. "Night, Percy. Get some proper sleep, okay?"

"I'll try. Night, Dad."

 

* * *

Percy did feel a bit better after his talk with his father. Mr. Crouch's business wasn't his concern. As long as Barty could be kept away from him, everything would be fine.

Bertha Jorkins was another matter entirely. Percy wished someone could keep _her_ away from him.

"Hello, Percy!"

"Oh. Hello, Bertha."

Percy stayed tucked in his corner of the lift and waited. She'd start rambling any second, he just knew it. And sure enough, as soon as the lift door slid shut...

"On my way to lunch with Suzy. You know Suzy from Level Four. The girl with the split ends who wears too much perfume."

Percy said nothing.

"Lovely girl. I'm just glad to finally get out of the office for a bit. Bagman's on my arse again, you know. Something about balls not being regulation. How is that even possible? They've been checked and rechecked. He's just showing off, he is. Like he knows so much more about Quidditch than the rest of us just because he used to play professionally. _Pfft!_ And he's sooo passive-aggressive about it. If he wants something done, why doesn't he just say so, why's he got to go sniffing around and _tut-tut-tutting_. He just wants us to ask, you know. Doesn't want to be the bad guy, so he waits until we ask what's wrong. That's a boss for you, eh? … Now, where was I going?"

"I have no idea," Percy sighed, but then quickly realised she'd meant that literally. He hazarded a glance at her. She was staring straight ahead, frowning, looking confused. This had been happening more and more lately.

"Lunch," said Percy. "With Suzy."

She turned to frown at him. "Help me out, love."

"From Level Four."

She shook her head. "Gonna need a little more."

"Er... split ends?"

"Right!" she said brightly, beaming at Percy. "Thanks. I tell you, these days if my head wasn't screwed on –"

"Yes, well, this is my floor." He gave her a tight little smile and then hurried out of the lift before the doors were completely open. Percy couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Suzy from Level Four.

At the end of business that day, Percy didn't wait for Mr. Crouch. He went straight to the Crouch house, as instructed. As soon as he arrived, Winky was upon him.

"Hello, Master Percy. Is you needing anything? Tea? Biscuits? There is some of the cake you enjoyed yesterday leftover –"

"No, thank you, Winky, I'm fine. Er... where's... where is he?"

Winky's ears drooped a little. "Master Barty is in the basement."

Percy glanced sceptically in the direction of the basement. "The door's locked, is it? Has he been properly Imperiused?"

Winky nodded at the floor. "Yes, Master Percy. Winky will stay up here to be at Master Percy's disposal."

"Good," muttered Percy, still looking suspiciously into the house. "I'll be in Mr. Crouch's office." At that, Percy stepped around Winky and headed for the office. He put his hand on the door handle, but didn't turn it right away. Instead he glanced over his shoulder at Winky. The elf was still standing by the front door, her head down, her ears drooping. She slowly looked around at him, met his eyes, and just stared at him. He couldn't figure out the look she was giving him.

"Have I done something wrong?" he asked, partially turning back to her.

"No, sir," she said, her voice unusually subdued. "Winky is leaving now, sir." At that, Winky bowed her head and then disappeared.

 _Must be upset that Barty has to be locked up today,_ he thought. _Yes, that must be it. She spends all her time caring for him. She just misses him, that's all._

He flicked his wand at the office's torches as he entered, lighting each one. Percy was frowning at Mr. Crouch's coffee table as soon as it was illuminated. He'd spent so much time sitting on that couch, at that coffee table, that he was beginning to resent them both.

But tonight, when Percy touched the couch for the first time, it wasn't to sit on it. It was to break his fall.

Barty Jr. must have been hiding behind the office door. He collided with Percy's back, knocked him over and landed on top of him on the couch. Percy struggled, and might've been able to fight Barty off if it hadn't been for his own wand; Barty Jr. got hold of it before Percy could stop him and he cast the Body-Bind Curse. Percy's entire body went rigid. It felt as though someone had wrapped him tightly in a bed sheet from neck to foot. As for his head, it became clear that he wasn't able to move it when Barty stood and rolled Percy over onto his back; Percy's face had been turned to the side when the curse had been placed on him, and it remained so now. He stared across the room at Mr. Crouch's desk, unable to move anything apart from his eyes.

Barty was staring down at him, still clutching Percy's wand. Percy couldn't quite see his face.

"So," said Barty in a half-whisper. "Here we are."

Percy tried to speak, but was quickly reminded that he couldn't. He couldn't even swallow; a little pool of saliva was beginning to form on the inside of his right cheek.

"You know, I've been thinking about the way you're constantly up my father's arse," Barty continued, stepping closer to Percy's head. "You like it up there, don't you?" He used Percy's wand to trace a delicate path down the side of Percy's face to his neck. "You just _love_ getting that cute little freckled nose of yours right up in there, don't you? He know who you are? Does he know who your family is?" Barty crouched down by Percy's head, and now Percy could properly see the man's face. His mouth hung slightly open and he looked oddly serene. He tilted his head to one side.

"Well, this is a rather boring conversation, innit?" he said. "One-sided. I'm trapped here all day and night, no one to talk to but Winky, who's very sweet, but hardly the best conversationalist. I hate to leave you all bound up like this, unable to talk to me." He tilted his head the other way. "But I can't unbind you if you plan on trying to escape. You know that. The question is... are you going to be a good boy? Look upwards for 'yes', downwards for 'no'. And remember where your wand is." He held Percy's wand aloft and twirled it between his fingers like a baton. Percy's eyes followed one end of it around and around for a moment, but then he finally met Barty's eyes again and slowly, deliberately, glanced upward, toward the armrest of the couch. Whether his glance was a lie or not, he hadn't yet decided.

"Okay," said Barty in a soft, eerie, sing-songy voice as he straightened back up to his full height. "I'm trusting you." He pointed the wand at Percy, uttered the counter-curse, and instantly Percy's body relaxed. Percy didn't move right away. His eyes were focused on the end of his own wand, which was still pointed directly at him. He slowly turned his head so that his neck wasn't twisted all the way to the side. He wanted desperately to massage his neck, but he didn't dare move anymore.

"Sit up," Barty instructed. He stepped back a bit, but he didn't lower Percy's wand. Percy slowly sat up and put his feet on the floor. He sat almost as rigidly as he'd been lying a moment ago. He stared up at Barty and didn't say a word. He wished his heart would stop thumping so loudly.

Barty stepped close again, stood right before Percy, and he nudged his left leg in between Percy's knees. Percy didn't resist. His eyes remained on Barty's face.

"Good boy," Barty whispered, caressing Percy's cheek with the wand tip. He slid the tip down Percy's chin, nudged the tip up underneath it and tilted Percy's face up even more.

"How do you know about my family?" Percy managed to ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Barty smiled. "Oh, everyone knows about _your_ family, _Weasley_."

"Yes, but... you've been locked up here all this time. Before this you were in Azkaban. And you're too old to have been at school with my brothers."

"Death Eaters talk."

"But –"

"Enough questions," Barty said firmly. "You're not quite so appealing with your gums flapping like that, are you?"

"What do you want with me?"

Barty smiled lopsidedly. "You can't tell? Maybe you're not as bright as you look."

Percy had an inkling what Barty Jr. had in mind, but he couldn't quite believe it. "You've been watching me all this time?"

"Course I have. New person in the house, touching my things. Had to check you out, didn't I?"

"Have I done something to offend you? You've attacked me twice now. And your father," Percy went on, somehow finding his voice again, his tone becoming clear and sure, "assured me that you'd be locked up and properly Imperiused –"

" _Fuck_ my father," Barty hissed, jamming Percy's wand firmly against Percy's throat. "He doesn't control me. Not anymore."

Without warning, Barty grabbed hold of Percy's neck and pushed him back against the backrest with surprising strength. Percy could still breathe, but only just. His hands flew up to claw at Barty's hand. He gasped for air and his legs started to kick, but Barty plunked himself down on top of Percy, straddled him, his surprisingly strong thigh muscles rendering Percy's legs useless. Percy stared up at Barty in horror; Barty was smiling down at him.

Barty flicked Percy's wand at the office door without taking his eyes off Percy, and the door swung shut. Percy heard the locks click. The strain of keeping Percy in place was showing on Barty's face, but Barty still seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. His smile now bordered on maniacal.

"Oh, but we can't have this," Barty said, slowly bringing the wand tip toward Percy's face. "No, this won't do at all. I thought you said you were going to be good."

 _I'm just trying to breathe!_ Percy thought frantically, trying to dig his fingertips in enough to get them underneath Barty's crushing hand. The closer the wand got to his head, the more he tried to struggle, but he was starting to black out.

 _I can't die like this,_ he thought. _Not now. There's still too much to do._

Percy abandoned his efforts to pry Barty's hand away and went for his midriff instead, delivering a solid blow to Barty's stomach. Barty gasped and toppled over onto the floor. Coughing and clutching at his own neck, Percy fought his dizziness and scrambled up off of the couch. He ran for the door, nearly falling over the coffee table. He began unlocking the first of three locks with shaking fingers. He glanced back at Barty to gauge whether or not he should turn and fight, but Barty was still on the floor, just sitting up now, one hand on his forehead, his face screwed up in pain.

Percy went back to fiddling with the locks. All he had to do was calm down. Just _calm down_ and _think_ and _breathe_. Panicking wouldn't get these locks open. _Come on, Percy, stop shaking,_ he thought. _Stop it. Stop it! STOP –_

_"Imperio!"_

Every independent thought Percy had seemed to liquefy and ooze right out of his head. He stopped shaking. He stopped trying to get the door open. He straightened up and stood there facing the door, feeling completely calm and relaxed.

"Turn round and come here."

Percy obeyed the order. He turned slowly around and looked at Barty. Barty was standing now and had a reddening bruise on his forehead. Percy walked toward him and stopped in front of him.

"You're hurt," Percy said in a soft, mildly curious-sounding voice.

"Yes, I am, because of you," said Barty. "Now, that wasn't very nice, was it?" He stepped closer, pressing his body up against Percy's. Percy didn't resist. He had no desire to. "You'll have to make it up to me, won't you?"

Somewhere in the back of Percy's mind, Percy was wondering where Winky had gotten to. But that wasn't important. What was important was Barty. What was important was doing everything Barty asked. Percy nodded and replied, "Yes."

Barty nodded along with him, looking up into his eyes. "That's right. Oh, you are a pretty thing when you're obedient, aren't you?" Barty stowed Percy's wand in his own back pocket so he could use both hands to unbutton Percy's trousers. Percy looked down for a moment at what Barty's fingers were doing, as though mildly curious, and then focused on Barty's face again.

Barty slid his hand inside Percy's underwear and cupped his genitals. "From now on," he whispered as he massaged Percy's flaccid cock, "the very sight of me, the very sound of my voice, makes you hard. Got it?"

This seemed reasonable to Percy. "Yes," he replied.

"Good. Ah, there it goes," Barty whispered with a smile as Percy began to harden in his hand. "That's a good boy."

Barty closed his eyes and tilted his head, and Percy realised Barty wanted a kiss. He obediently closed his own eyes and tilted his head too. He followed Barty's lead as their lips met, opening his mouth only as much as Barty did, deepening the kiss at the same rate as Barty did. Barty's arm slipped around him and pulled him closer, so Percy leaned into him. What Barty's hand was doing inside his pants felt quite nice and Percy began to breathe harder. Barty smiled against his mouth and held him tighter.

"You like that, eh?" Barty whispered. "Show me how much you like it."

Percy put his hands on Barty's shoulders, and then up on either side of Barty's head and neck. He allowed a moan to escape him as Barty kissed even deeper, almost ravenously, and Barty's hand moved faster inside Percy's pants.

Percy could hear his own voice, but it sounded almost alien to him as he let out a series of hard groans on each exhalation. He felt almost out-of-body. His hands gripped Barty's shirt collar, clinging as though he feared Barty might disappear any moment, and his body began to tremble as climax crept up on him.

Suddenly Barty pushed him down on the couch again. This time Percy landed face-up, not quite sitting up straight, but slouched down with his legs spread. Barty leered at him as he lowered himself to the couch next to Percy, his eyes moving up and down Percy's long body. Percy put his head back and gazed sleepily up at him.

Barty got his hand back inside Percy's clothes and began stroking him again. Percy immediately responded, having learned that Barty liked it. His eyelids drooped even more, his thigh muscles tensed as he pushed up into Barty's hand, and soft, lustful noises began to issue from his wet, kiss-bruised mouth.

"Open up," Barty growled, pulling Percy's legs open wider with his free hand. Percy let his legs fall open as far as they'd go and slouched down as far as he could without slipping off the couch. When Barty leaned in and kissed him again, he opened his mouth wide and accepted Barty's tongue with a groan.

Somewhere off to his left there were several little clicking noises. Percy paid them no mind. All that mattered was what was happening right here on this couch. But then Barty broke the kiss and, though he didn't stop fondling Percy, he looked up toward the office door.

"Merlin's beard," gasped a familiar voice. Mr. Crouch's voice. Percy followed Barty's eyes. Barty was grinning wickedly at his father, who was standing in the doorway, hand over his heart, face turned away from what was going on in front of him. Percy could hear soft, squeaky whimpering coming from just out of sight, out in the hall.

"Welcome back, Father," said Barty softly.

Percy blinked dazedly up at Mr. Crouch, and then turned his attention back to Barty. His impending orgasm was right on his heels. He was panting and squirming, and he was fully aware that Mr. Crouch could see him, but he didn't care.

"How dare you engage in... _this_ in my office?" Mr. Crouch demanded.

"Had to work quickly, didn't I?" purred Barty. "Had to lock us both in so he couldn't get out. And so that Winky couldn't get in."

The squeaky whimpering from the hall grew louder. "Winky did not see Master Barty go into Master Crouch's office. Winky did not think Master Barty would act so quickly."

"Winky, please, not now," sighed Mr. Crouch. "Barty, take this downstairs immediately."

"Not yet," said Barty, looking back down into Percy's eyes. "He's about to blow."

"He's about to... what?"

Sure enough, Percy's climax overtook him, washed over him like a tidal wave. His whole body tensed, and the one thought that remained in his head was Barty's pleasure at seeing _his_ pleasure. Percy didn't, couldn't, hold back showing Barty how good he felt. He rocked his hips and groaned freely.

Mr. Crouch muttered something under his breath. Percy paid him no mind. He writhed all the way through his climax and then finally began to come down, every muscle sagging.

Barty was smiling almost proudly at him. He removed his hand from Percy's pants and held it up. Percy could see that his fingers were wet.

"Lick that clean for me," Barty whispered. Percy opened his mouth and Barty slipped a finger inside. "Go on. Do a good job for me now." Percy sat up a bit, took hold of Barty's wrist and began licking enthusiastically.

"Barty, please," said Mr. Crouch.

"Thought you'd be happy to come in here and find me occupied," said Barty.

Percy heard Mr. Crouch begin a long string of grumbled curse words and then heard the office door slam, cutting of the string of profanity and Winky's whimpering. None of that mattered anyway. What mattered was getting all of his semen off Barty Jr.'s hand. He sucked each finger. He poked his tongue at the webs of skin between each finger. He ran his tongue up the palm. He did this until Barty stuck his thumb in Percy's mouth and held it there. Percy sucked on it and fixed his eyes on Barty's face. Barty watched him with sleepy eyes as he got up and straddled Percy again. Percy continued sucking as his eyes went down to see what Barty's other hand was doing; it was unfastening Barty's jeans.

Barty removed his thumb from Percy's mouth and stood tall on his knees, his pelvis thrust slightly forward. Barty reached out and gently removed Percy's glasses.

"Take out my cock," he instructed, tossing Percy's glasses onto the couch next to them.

Percy reached up and peeled back the open folds of Barty's jeans. Barty wasn't wearing pants underneath and his cock fell right out and pointed at Percy's face. Percy thought it was a good size; fairly average, not too big, not too small.

Percy looked up at Barty's face again as Barty began caressing his hair and his face. "Know what I want you to do with that, pretty Weasley boy?" he whispered. "Can that Imperiused brain of yours work it out? Go on, guess."

Percy blinked at him as Barty gently tweaked Percy's chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Would you like me to suck on it?" Percy asked.

Barty let out a soft little needy groan and nodded. He took hold of himself and placed his pink, leaking head against Percy's mouth. Percy opened his mouth a bit as Barty rubbed pre-come onto his lips. His eyes remained locked on Barty's face as he slipped his tongue out and gently lapped at the head.

Then, without warning, Barty grabbed a handful of Percy's hair to hold Percy's head in place, causing Percy to gasp in pain.

"That's a good little blood traitor," growled Barty as he pushed deep into Percy's mouth, all the way to the back. "Take it all. Serve your purpose."

Percy gagged and his eyes watered. Barty seemed to enjoy the sight of Percy's struggle, leering more evilly and pushing in even harder, nudging against the back of Percy's throat. Tears streamed down Percy's face and he gagged violently.

"Calm _down_ ," Barty snarled, yanking Percy's hair more roughly, jerking his head a bit to the side. Percy made a concerted effort to stop gagging. He finally managed to get the reflex mostly under control and he blinked tearfully up at Barty.

"That's better. Close your mouth around me."

Percy obeyed, sealing his lips around Barty's length, still diligently fighting his gag reflex and ignoring his now running nose.

Barty's sneering smile softened a bit. He released Percy's hair and cupped his face instead, holding it steady as he began to pump in and out of Percy's mouth, bumping against the back of his throat on nearly every thrust.

Then Barty released his face and stopped thrusting. "Suck me," he whispered, stroking Percy's hair. Percy shifted a bit and began to move his head back and forth. He took hold of the base of Barty's prick and put everything he had into the task. Percy never did anything unless he was going to do it properly, and this was no different. He would make sure this task was done the way he'd want it done for himself: correctly and thoroughly.

Soon, Barty was breathing erratically and quivering just a bit. Percy knew that Barty's little grunts and moans were good noises and Percy knew he must be doing a very good job.

"Gonna... come now..." Barty panted. He pulled out of Percy's mouth and began stroking himself, his breathing growing even more ragged. "Open wide for me."

Percy opened his mouth and tilted his head back. Barty's body gave a little jerk and Percy flinched as warm liquid hit his face, landing on a slight diagonal from forehead to cheek, right across his nose. It was followed by another and another, until the final spurt oozed gently from Barty's slit and Barty's climax came to a shuddering halt.

With a few final groans, Barty squeezed the last of his come from his already softening prick, and he fell to the couch at Percy's side. Percy's eyes followed him. Barty slumped down, put his head back and closed his eyes. He lay there for a while catching his breath. Percy waited patiently.

Barty finally opened his eyes and looked at Percy. He smiled lazily at him. Even in the spent, relaxed state he was in, there was still a certain cockiness in his gaze. He reached over and, with his thumb, wiped a bit of his come from Percy's cheek and right into Percy's mouth. Percy opened up and took the thumb and gently sucked the liquid off, all the while keeping his eyes locked on Barty.

"You're a sweet little bitch, aren't ya?" Barty whispered.

Percy recognised this as a rhetorical question and didn't answer.

There was a sharp rapping on the office door, so loud and unexpected that the contented fog in Percy's brain began to clear. Barty pulled his thumb from Percy's mouth and he scowled and grumbled as he retrieved Percy's wand from his pocket and quickly locked the door again. "Let's see him try to get through that," he muttered. He then stood and fastened his jeans. Percy looked dazedly around the room, blinking, frowning, trying to work out what was happening.

"I WANT YOU OUT OF MY OFFICE _NOW_!" bellowed Mr. Crouch from the opposite side of the door, jiggling the door handle angrily.

"Keep your hair on, old man," muttered Barty, too softly for his father to hear. He glanced over at Percy and eyed his open trousers. "Put yourself away."

Percy squinted at him in confusion. Barty was all blurry; Percy's glasses were still sitting next to him on the couch. There was a sticky mess inside his pants and... was his face _wet_? Percy reached up and touched his wet cheek, felt the texture of the liquid. It felt sickeningly familiar...

 _Bang, bang, bang!_ "BARTY!"

"Hang on a minute, Father," Barty called with a big grin. "I'm just finishing him off." Barty chuckled to himself and looked down at Percy again. Their eyes locked and Percy just stared at him in horror.

"What did you do?" Percy quietly asked.

Barty leered at him, looking him up and down, eyes lingering on his still open trousers. "You know what I did. Or did I Imperio you so hard, I fried your brains?"

Percy's brains were fine and he quickly realised that he remembered everything. The memory of the last ten minutes washed over him like a bad dream. Mr. Crouch was now working on the door locks and still bellowing, but Percy could barely hear him. Percy had just had the man standing before him _in his mouth_. He currently had this man's semen on his face and neck. Percy could still taste him. The man had touched him too...

… and Mr. Crouch had seen.

Percy felt his stomach heave, but he resisted it, pushed down the vomit threatening to come up. Trembling and covered in a cold sweat, Percy sat up and frantically wiped his face with his sleeves. He fastened his trousers and began searching for his glasses. He squinted and felt around and quickly found them sitting next to him. He jammed them onto his face and looked up at Barty again, who hadn't stopped grinning smugly at him.

Percy got shakily to his feet. Barty took a step toward him and Percy jumped back so quickly he nearly fell over. He quickly righted himself and backed away, toward the back wall.

"Aw, come on, now," said Barty, holding his palms up as though in a show of good faith. "You're not still afraid of me, are you? After all we've meant to each other."

Percy instinctively reached back for his wand and was momentarily shocked to not find it. He quickly remember what had happened to it and his eyes darted down to Barty's hands. Barty held them up and wiggled his fingers at Percy.

"Not there. Sorry. Try again."

Percy looked at his face again, his eyes now blazing with fear and growing rage. He could feel his entire body quaking. "Where is my wand?" he demanded, tight-lipped and deceptively quiet, his tone not matching his emotions in the slightest.

Barty frowned and looked around the room as though searching for it. "I know I left it somewhere around here." He began to pat himself down, starting up at his chest and working his way down to his hips. "Must've misplaced it, can't imagine where..." He stopped as his hands cupped his own buttocks and looked at Percy with mock surprise. "Think I found it, mate."

"I... am _not_... your _mate_ ," Percy growled, his voice trembling.

Barty smiled again and emitted a low, sinister chuckle, once again twirling Percy's wand between his fingers. "Not yet, no. But me and you will be mating by week's end, I expect."

Percy glared at him and made a concerted effort to look more angry than frightened. He held out his hand. "Give me my wand back, _now_."

"Or you'll what?" Barty taunted.

"I demand you return my wand to me this instant! Your father –"

"My father," Barty interrupted, saying the words as though they were tainted, "is the reason you're here with me, Pretty Thing."

Percy froze, even his trembling stopped. "What did you say?"

"What, don't believe me? Here." Barty tossed Percy's wand to him. Percy was too stunned to catch it. He bent down to pick it up, quickly straightened up again and trained it on Barty, who, infuriatingly enough, laughed at him.

Barty jerked his head at the door. "Go ask him. He'll tell you." Barty stepped aside and folded his arms.

Percy's eyes darted toward the door. Was Barty really just going to just let him go? Percy began to inch his way toward the door. Barty watched him with that cocky smile on his face. Percy didn't turn his back on him once; as he passed Barty, he turned his back on the door instead, backing himself toward it, reaching a hand behind him to grab onto the door handle.

"Tell dear old Dad I said thanks for the use of the office. And the Assistant."

Percy's stomach lurched again. He fumbled with the locks, certain that at any moment Barty was going to lunge at him, but Barty stayed put. Percy couldn't stop his imagination, however, couldn't stop seeing the pale, freckled face contorting with unhinged rage and descending on him. Barty charged at him at least six times in Percy's head before Percy finally got the locks open, opened the door and stumbled out into the softly-lit hall. There was no one around, and Percy finally realised that Mr. Crouch must have gone off to find something to help get him into his office. Percy hadn't even noticed when the yelling had stopped.

He shut the door and backed away from it, eyes trained on the door handle, just waiting for it to begin slowly turning. It didn't.

The house was quiet. The kitchen lights were on. Percy wondered if Mr. Crouch was in there. He finally turned away from the door and walked as quickly as he could to the downstairs loo, where he shut the door, locked it, and promptly emptied his stomach into the sink.

 

* * *

Percy wasn't sure how long he sat on the bathroom floor. He wasn't terribly comfortable there, but he couldn't seem to make himself get up.

 _"Barty, take this downstairs immediately,"_ Mr. Crouch had said upon catching Percy and Barty in his office.

 _"Thought you'd be happy to come in here and find me occupied,"_ Barty had said. Percy had been Imperiused and completely focused on Barty Jr., but he remembered that conversation clear as day.

The knock at the door made Percy jump so hard, he made the bathroom door, which he was leaning against, rattle. He spun on his bottom and looked warily at the door. What if it was Barty? No, the knock had been too tiny. It must be Winky. But what if it was Barty _pretending_ to be Winky?

"Master Percy?" asked Winky's little voice. "Is you all right? You has been in there for a very long time."

Percy took a deep, shaky breath. "Just a moment." He finally managed to peel himself off the floor. He stood and surveyed his reflection in the mirror. His tie was loosened and his collar was unbuttoned, and both were damp because he'd frantically washed his face and neck, trying to get Barty off of him.

He quickly spelled himself dry, did up his buttons and fixed his tie. When he opened the door, he smiled down at Winky in a way he hoped suggested that he was just fine. He cleared his throat.

"Hello, Winky," he said. "Can I help you with something?"

Winky looked as frightened as ever. "How is you feeling?" she asked timidly.

 _She knows, she was in on it,_ Percy thought. _"Winky did not think Master Barty would act so quickly,"_ is what she'd said. He couldn't really be angry with her, though. She was bound to her Master and had to follow his orders.

"You knew, didn't you?" he finally said.

Winky squeezed her eyes shut, lowered her head and shook it from side to side.

"I suppose you're not supposed to answer that," Percy guessed.

A soft humming began to issue from Winky, as though she wanted to say something, but just couldn't.

"Winky, please, just... stop. _Stop_. You don't have to answer."

Winky stopped humming and shaking her head, but didn't look up.

"Where is Mr. Crouch?"

"In his office. He is waiting for Master Percy. He is sending Winky to come get you."

Percy nodded. "Thank you." Without another word, Percy slipped past her, into the dim hallway and marched across to the office. He looked neither to his right, nor his left, and pushed any thoughts of Barty Jr. jumping out at him from the shadows to the back of his mind.

The office door wasn't quite closed and a shaft of torchlight was shooting out into the hall from within. Percy stepped right up and knocked.

"Enter," came Mr. Crouch's voice. He sounded perfectly normal, as though his own son hadn't just molested another human being in his home.

Percy pushed the door open, stepped inside and shut it behind him. He stood before the door and didn't move. He stared straight ahead at the back of Mr. Crouch's head, which was just visible over the top of his high-backed chair. Mr. Crouch didn't turn around.

"I suppose you have some questions for me," he said.

Percy thought this was an understatement and was feeling less and less in control of his emotions by the second. He took a deep, silent breath and tried to push everything down. "Yes, sir," was his only reply. He saw no need to elaborate; Mr. Crouch knew why he was there. Percy heard him exhale heavily, and then he finally spun his chair around to face Percy. He surveyed Percy calmly.

"You look dreadful."

Percy clenched his jaw. "Is that unexpected?"

"No, I suppose not." Mr Crouch gestured at the couch. "Please, have a seat."

Percy didn't even glance at the couch. He swallowed hard to push down the sensation of needing the vomit again. "No, I think I'll stand, thank you."

"Suit yourself," Mr. Crouch sighed. He sounded tired. The lines around his eyes were as deep as ever. "Tell me... do you know much about my son?"

Percy looked away. Why was Mr. Crouch asking such a thing after what had happened? "No," Percy said tersely.

"No, you probably wouldn't. Well, he's always been very strong-willed. Stubborn. Set in his ways. Much like his old man. Sometimes I lie awake at night and wonder... perhaps if he'd been weaker, softer somehow, maybe things would've been different. Or perhaps... perhaps I've got that the wrong way round. Perhaps he was weak, needed to be stronger."

Percy had no idea where this was going. He folded his arms. "Mr. Crouch, sir, if you're stalling or trying to change the subject, it won't –"

"I'm not changing the subject. This is about you and Barty. I'm talking about Barty now, we'll get to you in a minute. Now, then." He cleared his throat. "You couldn't tell him anything without getting some kind of argument in return. He seemed to thrive on playing Devil's Advocate. We'd tell him to make his bed, he'd argue he would get to bed a lot faster at night if it was already unmade when he got there. Things like that. He had a quick retort for everything. And of course those arguments only got better as he got older. He almost had me believing his claptrap on more than one occasion, I can tell you. But then his arguments started getting more and more outrageous. And his friends; that was one of the biggest changes. Suddenly, Barty actually _had_ friends. We told him that his new crowd seemed like a bad influence, surly and disrespectful. He argued that most kids his age were mindless sheep and we ought to be happy he'd found an intellectually-stimulating crowd. I remember that argument; he ended up storming out of the house, slammed the front door so hard I felt the floor shake. His mother ended up crying. He'd stormed off before, but this time felt different, like... like he'd made a decision.

"I didn't know it then, but on that night he went straight to You-Know-Who. Or some of You-Know-Who's followers, I don't know the exact details. But I think it was that night that he joined them for better or worse. He was to be put through a series of tests before they'd let him into the fold. I don't know what these tests entailed. All I know is when he returned home... he was different.

"His mother found him curled up on the front porch the following morning, soaking wet, shivering, fast asleep. I heard her scream and came running. He looked like he'd been in a fight; he had cuts and bruises all over him, bloody lip, black eye, his clothes were torn. When he woke up, he looked up at us as though he'd never seen us before. He stared at us, his face completely blank, for at least ten or fifteen seconds. When we finally saw some recognition on his face, it was mixed with disdain and something like gleefulness. He started laughing. We couldn't get him to stop. The neighbours were starting to stare. He laughed so hard, his eyes started watering. We pulled him up and dragged him up to his room and shut the door on him. He didn't resist. He kept on laughing for several minutes. When he finally stopped, there was nothing but silence from him for hours."

Mr. Crouch stopped talking. Percy found himself staring at him, but Mr. Crouch wasn't looking at Percy. He continued to stare off across the room at nothing in particular as though he could see his memories on the wall.

"He was never the same," Mr. Crouch went on. "We took him to St. Mungo's hoping someone could tell us what had happened to him, because he sure as hell wasn't talking. The official diagnosis was prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. Apparently, he'd been put through something very much like what he would later help do to Frank and Alice Longbottom. But instead of going mad, he'd become more focused, harder somehow. It was as though... the pain helped him see more clearly."

"Mr. Crouch," Percy finally interrupted him, "this is all very fascinating, but what your son did to me – what _you_ allowed him to do to me –"

"Barty doesn't respond to certain types of magic the way most of us do," said Mr. Crouch as though Percy hadn't spoken at all. "Whether his initiation into the Death Eaters was what caused his resilience, or he was just always like that, is anybody's guess."

"Mr. Crouch –"

"Percy." Mr. Crouch finally met Percy's eyes, and the seriousness Percy saw on his boss's face shut him right up. "Barty doesn't respond to curses like normal people do. The Longbottoms went _crazy_ ; Barty just got _angry_. I've been repeatedly Imperiusing him since breaking him out of Azkaban. It never takes. Over ten years of this, and while he's probably a bit addled from it, the fact remains he's still sharp enough to Imperius you, and you're one of the brightest, most wilful people I know."

Percy was frowning at him now. What was he trying to say? "So... because you can't control him, you decided to..."

Mr. Crouch sighed. "I saw the way he looked at you. That night that he attacked you in the kitchen. As you walked away... there was a spark of something in his eyes, something I hadn't seen since he was a teenager, since before he stormed out of the house that fateful night. Winky saw it too. She's the one who convinced me to... let him have you."

" _Winky_ did?" Percy asked incredulously. "But she was appalled by what he was doing. I heard her sobbing."

"Well, just because it was her idea, doesn't mean she approved of Barty's methods. She just wanted him to have something he liked. She never told him to assault you."

Percy shifted from foot to foot, trying to wrap his mind around all this. "What did you see?" he finally asked. "In Barty's eyes when he looked at me."

"Life. Something other than anger or hatred or blankness or just plain stark, raving madness. There was... desire. For something other than his precious You-Know-Who. He _wanted_ something. For just a moment he seemed... almost normal."

"But he’s _not_ normal," Percy blurted out.

Mr. Crouch thought for a moment and then finally replied with resignation, "No. I suppose not."

Percy swallowed and looked away again. He glanced over at the couch before he could stop himself. He felt shaky, cold and clammy, he felt the room start to sway. He was going to keel over. Despite his desire to never touch that couch again, he had to sit. He walked over and dropped down onto it and hoped he didn't look as sick as he felt.

"Are you all right?"

Percy looked up at Mr. Crouch in disbelief. "What do you think?" he asked frankly.

"You have every right to be angry."

"I know that!" Percy said sharply.

"I wouldn't blame you if you’ve decided not to continue on with me."

Percy hadn't even gotten that far, hadn't even considered what he was going to do about his job. No, he definitely couldn't continue working for this man under the circumstances.

"I wouldn't blame you for turning me in, either," said Mr. Crouch, but somehow he didn't sound terribly concerned. "Why haven't you already done so, if I might ask?"

Percy hesitated. "I thought it was in everyone's best interests to keep it quiet."

Mr. Crouch nodded. "That's what I thought," he said, and Percy didn't care for the hint of knowing in his tone. "Are you going to tell anyone now? You have every right to; Barty did assault you."

 _And you let him,_ Percy thought, still in shock. "You don't sound particularly concerned. It's like you already know I won't."

"Well, that's rubbish, of course. I have no idea what you might do, Weatherby."

Percy clenched his jaw and looked away again.

"What I do know is this: Barty's need to get out and get back to the Death Eaters is, at times, frightening. His will is astounding. He's stronger than most. Stronger than I," Mr. Crouch admitted, looking down at the floor. "I don't know how much longer I can hold him. _Imperius_ is lasting for shorter and shorter periods each time I use it."

"Mr. Crouch, I know what you're asking, and to be frank, I cannot believe that you'd even suggest it. It's preposterous, immoral, _sick_." Percy practically spat the final word.

Mr. Crouch looked at him sombrely. "I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't of the utmost importance."

"I'm not saying I don't understand the gravity of the situation. I know what's at stake for you."

"Do you know what's at stake for _you_?"

Percy stared at him. He knew exactly what Mr. Crouch was saying. Percy's mouth twitched as he thought about his career. "I believe I do, yes," he said quietly.

"I'm not threatening you," Mr. Crouch quickly added. "If you choose not to continue on with me, I'll let you be. If, however, you decide to take action against me... well... I'm afraid I'll have to take action against you too."

Percy's eyebrows went up. "That sounded an awful lot like a threat."

Mr. Crouch gave a little half-shrug. "You understand, of course. I can't allow this to get out. I've suffered quite enough from the backlash of what I did to my son. I can't have anything like that happen again."

"So... if I go on my way and never tell a soul what has been happening here, you won't hold a grudge? You won't try to sabotage my career?"

Mr. Crouch laughed a low, sardonic sort of laugh. "Please. Your little career is the least of my worries. You stay out of my hair, I'll stay out of yours."

Percy lowered his gaze. That remark about his career had stung. How could he ever have thought that this man was actually starting to see him as some kind of equal? Percy looked at him again, barely bothering to hide the disgust he felt.

"Trying to butter me up, are you?" he asked sarcastically. "As I recall, it was _you_ who was asking favours here, not me."

"Well, not quite." Mr. Crouch sat back in his chair, elbows on the armrests, fingers steepled before his chest. "There is still the matter of my future recommendations. I'm not saying I won't give a fair assessment of your performance when asked by one of your potential future employers. However, there is a big difference between 'fair' and 'glowing'. We both know that you doing well here means everything in terms of where you end up after you leave me."

Percy looked off to the side at nothing. "How do you even know I... that I'm... that way."

"Homosexual?" offered Mr. Crouch without missing a beat. "I didn't know. But Barty's always had a certain instinct for sniffing out his own kind. He didn't think I was paying attention, but all those nights he spent locked away in his room as a teen... sometimes he wasn't alone. Of course, by the time he was bold enough to start bringing home young men, his mother and I were both so afraid of him we just let him be." Mr. Crouch sighed. "Barty chose you. So, I guessed you might be like him. And the fact that it's taken you this long to bring up the subject tells me Barty was probably right."

Percy's jaw muscles clenched throughout Mr. Crouch's entire explanation. "So, let me see if I have this straigh – er, right," he finally said. "My options are **a)** stay on solely as your assistant and we'll somehow pretend all this never happened, **b)** stay on as your assistant _and_ your son's... _plaything_ , or **c)** leave and never speak of this again. Is that about the size of it?"

"Yes."

Percy looked toward the ceiling and shook his head. "I can't believe I'm even considering this," he muttered.

"I know what just happened to you was humiliating, emotionally scarring even. But you can take control of this situation if you choose. It doesn't have to be undignified for you. It can be a mutually satisfying endeavour for everyone involved if you make it so."

Take control? How exactly? Percy had never felt more out of control in his life. "Do I have to respond right this second?"

"No. You can think on it a bit, if you like."

Percy looked at him coldly. "Do you require anything else this evening? Sir."

"No. You may leave."

Percy stood. "You'll have an answer by the end of day tomorrow. Goodnight, sir."

 

* * *

Percy crept through the dark, up the stairs to the second floor and his bedroom. Everyone seemed to already be asleep. He stepped lightly past the twins' bedroom, toward his own. He was almost safely inside when a voice made him jump.

"What time's this, then?" asked the voice of an angry woman.

"Mum! I'm sorry, I –" Percy spun around to face his mother's wrath, but stopped as he saw that it was only his little sister. Ginny, in one of Charlie's old, oversized t-shirts that she now slept in, was standing at the top of the stairs, grinning at Percy and trying not to laugh.

"That wasn't funny," Percy grumbled. He turned and went into his room. He tried to push the door shut, but Ginny came right up behind him and pushed it open.

"Actually, it was," she argued, going inside and shutting the door. "You should've seen it from my perspective. It was hilarious."

Percy turned on his bedside lamp. "It's late, you should be asleep by now."

"Funny, I was going to say the same to you."

"Oh, don't go all Mum on me. I'm an adult with a real job, which sometimes means late nights."

Ginny shook her head at him, hands on her hips. "You look dreadful."

"Thanks." He turned away from her and began loosening his tie. "That seems to be the general consensus tonight."

"If this is what this job is doing to you, I say quit."

"Well, you would. The attitude of a naïve child, that is."

"Oi!"

"Adults don't just quit, Ginny," he snapped, pulling off his tie and throwing it down on the bed. He started on his shirt buttons next. "Sometimes that's not an option. And," he looked over his shoulder at her, "since when do you advocate quitting? Mum and Dad didn't raise you like that."

"There's a fine line between being noble and being a damn fool," she retorted. "What's this I hear about Mr. Crouch doing something you don't approve of and you just putting up with it?"

Percy's fingers froze halfway down his shirt and he slowly turned to face her. "Excuse me? Where'd you get that from?"

"Fred and George. They overheard you and Dad talking."

Percy clenched his jaw and glanced at the dividing wall between his room and the twins'. "Do those two _ever_ sleep?"

"Well? What's he doing, then? Something illegal, I bet."

"It's none of your business." Percy turned away again and continued unbuttoning. "Go to bed."

"I won't tell anyone, I swear."

Percy snorted. "Right. Look, Ginny, sometimes adults have to do certain things and not everyone has to approve. It's none of my business what Mr. Crouch does."

"Then why'd you have to ask Dad about it if it doesn't matter?"

"I wasn't sure."

"And you are now?"

"Yes, I am." Percy shrugged off his shirt, dropped it next to the tie and then reached under his pillow for his own hand-me-down pyjama shirt.

"Something's not right," said Ginny. "You're different. You're all secretive and crabby. More so than usual, I mean."

"Well, big things are happening. There's the World Cup, for starters, and something else you'll be interested in that I can't talk about."

"Oh?"

Percy picked up his shirt and tie and headed for his closet, looking at Ginny's face as he went, checking that she was properly interested. She was watching him curiously. He looked away and smiled as he dropped the clothes into his hamper.

"Yes, but as I said, it's a big secret. You'll find out about it in the the coming school year. Now run along so I can finish changing."

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. "That's not it. That's not what's been making you mental lately. There's something else."

Percy sighed. "Ginny, I'm exhausted. I've had a very long day. I can't have this conversation now."

The suspicion melted from Ginny's eyes and her whole demeanour softened. She stepped toward him, looking up into his eyes. "You leaving before breakfast again in the morning?"

Percy nodded. "Have to."

"Coming home late again too?"

"More than likely."

Ginny puffed out her cheeks as she exhaled. "I don't like this one bit."

Percy couldn't help but smile. "Since when do you care if I'm here?"

"I didn't. Or I thought I didn't. 'Til you weren't here anymore. Who's going to yell at us all for being obnoxious and too loud and for doing everything completely wrong if you're not around?"

Percy's smile broadened. "You can, can't you? You think you're right about everything."

Ginny laughed and gave him a playful punch in the stomach. Percy grunted and hunched over a bit, clutched at his stomach and tried not to show how much that had hurt.

"Well, perhaps you have a point," she said. "But this isn't permanent, is it? These ridiculous hours? You're going to kill yourself, and for what? Crouch? He doesn't even know your name."

Percy lowered his gaze, turned and stepped away from her. "My name isn't important. It's the calibre of the work I do that matters."

"A person's name matters, Percy."

"Do you have any idea what Mr. Crouch has been through?" Percy asked, turning back to face her.

"I've heard the stories," Ginny said darkly.

"You've only heard the rumours, the mutterings of the ignorant. They don't know. They have no idea. His son was a Death Eater, Ginny. A _Death Eater_. What was he supposed to have done? If you ask me, he did exactly the right thing."

Ginny's pretty face adopted an ugly frown. "But his own son..."

Percy shook his head at her and then went and sat on his bed. "You don't understand. You're too young. You've only heard the stories of what went on during You-Know-Who's rise."

Ginny approached and sat next to him. "You too."

"No. I was there. On the tail-end of it, yes, but still. I knew Uncle Gideon and Uncle Fabian, and one day they were just gone. I didn't understand why until much later, of course, but I did know that it had something to do with the people who harassed us." Percy shook his head at his lap. "Mad, they were. Got so I was afraid to leave the house even just to go into the backyard. The way they looked at us, with that sort of unhinged look in their eyes, like they could do anything to you at any moment." He looked over at her. "That is what we were up against. That is what Mr. Crouch's son was; those people who killed our uncles and terrorised us and so many others. You must get that. What was he supposed to have done?"

Percy almost couldn't believe he was sitting here defending Mr. Crouch after what had happened that night. But Ginny didn't know about the incident, he reasoned, so her viewpoint was flawed. Of course he had to correct her.

"So, you agree with what he did?"

"Yes, I do. I think he did the absolute right thing. You don't let Death Eaters win, Ginny. No matter who they are."

"So, you'd chuck me in Azkaban if I turned out to be –"

"Don't," Percy said seriously. "Don't even joke about that. But... well, wouldn't you expect me to?"

Ginny considered for a moment. "You? Yeah, I suppose." At that, she stood and headed for the door. "Well, I guess I'll see you... whenever I see you. Night, Perce."

"Goodnight," Percy called after her just before she shut the door behind her. He sat there on his bed for a while longer going over the conversation he'd just had. He almost wished he could have told her what had happened tonight. But she was just a child, despite how old she seemed at times. He couldn't burden her with this. Besides, she'd only tell their parents. This was something he had to handle on his own.

 _Adults don't quit,_ he thought. He nodded once, as though trying to make that decision final in his mind. _Adults don't quit and Death Eaters never win. Full stop._

 

* * *

_Percy opened his eyes and squinted around the sunlit backyard. He was four years old. Nine-year-old Billy and seven-year-old Charlie were both wearing makeshift school robes made from old, tattered blankets and using sticks they'd found in the grass as wands. They were playing Hogwarts again. They never let Percy play._

_The two-year-old twins were toddling around at Mummy's feet. They were quietly making their way toward the vegetable garden and the curious little gnome creatures that kept poking their heads out of the ground and pulling mean faces. The twins were supposed to stay close to Mummy. Percy would put a stop to this._

_He strode forward with purpose, pointed a finger at the twins and declared, "You're not s'posed to go in there. You'll get hurt –"_

_But just then, large hands grabbed him round his middle and yanked him upwards._

_"You're not supposed to go in there either," said Daddy, setting Percy back down on the ground next to him. Mummy went to deal with the twins._

_"Get back here, you two!" she went after them, but the twins gave chase, laughing like maniacal little monsters and traipsing through Mummy's carrots. Percy shook his head at them, watching them with intense disapproval._

_Freddie looked back at Percy and stuck out his tongue as he gleefully scampered just out of Mummy's grasp. Percy's mouth dropped open and he tugged at Daddy's trouser leg._

_"Daddy! Freddie stuck his tongue out at me!"_

_But Daddy didn't seem to notice. He was peering out across the way toward the Lovegood's house. "Looks like Xeno's brought back something else," he said. "Looks like a... large... turnip?"_

_"Oh, don't you dare!" Mummy shrieked, finally grabbing both twins by their arms and kneeling down before them to give them a stern warning. "I saw that, Fred. That was very bad, we don't stick our tongues out at people!"_

_Freddie promptly stuck his tongue out at her while Georgie giggled approvingly. Mummy exhaled angrily and, with some difficulty, hoisted both twins into her arms and came back over to Daddy._

_"Arthur, I could use a little help here," she said._

_"Hm?" Daddy looked at her. "Oh. Here, I'll take this one."_

_"George, Arthur. That one's George."_

_"I know which one he is. Hello, Georgie," said Daddy, laughing with Georgie as he took him from Mummy. "You're a naughty boy, aren't you?"_

_"Arthur, don't encourage him!"_

_"Mummy," said Percy, tugging at the hem of her dress. "Mummy, you saw Freddie stick out his tongue, didn't you?"_

_"Yes, Percy," sighed Mummy. "Go play with your brothers."_

_"But Mummy –"_

_"Not now, Percy, Mummy's busy," said Mummy, her face scrunched up as Freddie tugged on her hair. "Freddie, stop that!"_

_Percy glanced doubtfully over at Billy and Charlie. They were fully engrossed in their game, jumping around and pointing their play-wands at each other and shouting nonsense spells, and Percy knew they were nonsense because he always listened to adults when they talked, even if they weren't talking to him, and he'd never heard such spells from any adult. Percy wanted to go over and tell them they were just making things up, but then he remembered that he'd done that before and Daddy had told him there was no point in telling someone something they already knew. Percy wasn't so sure about this, because Mummy and Daddy were always telling_ him _things he already knew, but considering the way Billy and Charlie had scowled at him and shooed him away last time, Percy decided he'd stay put, hovering around Mummy's legs._

_The next things that happened, happened very fast. First, Percy saw a figure in black appear in the middle of the yard. She had long, straight, black hair and her wand was pointed at Mummy and Daddy and she was smiling a sort of smile that Percy didn't like. He'd always been told that smiles were supposed to be good, but for some reason that wasn't always the case. The next thing that happened was Percy was hoisted into the air by someone's hands, but they weren't Daddy's hands, Percy could tell by the way they felt._

_The next thing that happened was the screaming; Mummy screaming, Daddy yelling. Billy and Charlie ran across the yard to join them. Percy watched them pass by and wondered why he was being carried away from them. He tried to look behind him to see who was carrying him, and as soon as he realised it wasn't someone he knew, he became very unhappy._

_Percy was soon turned around to face the stranger, but Percy didn't look at his face. The Stranger held Percy up against his body like Mummy used to hold Percy when he was smaller, but he was a Big Boy now and too old to be carried around. Percy kept his face down and stuck his thumb in his mouth. Auntie Murial had told Percy not to suck his thumb, that he was too old for that, and Percy always listened to adults, but sometimes Percy didn't agree with what Auntie Murial said and she wasn't here now anyway._

_Another stranger, a boy dressed in black as well, was standing with Mummy, Daddy, Billy, Charlie and the twins. He had his wand pointed at them and he was the only one of them who looked happy, though it was the bad sort of happy that made Percy uneasy. The girl was next to Percy and The Stranger holding him, and she was saying things, and Mummy and Daddy were saying things back, and Percy wanted to listen to what they were saying, but The Stranger began to rock Percy a bit in his arms and then started to speak._

_"What's your name?" asked The Stranger. Percy didn't answer and kept on sucking his thumb. "My name is –"_

_"Please don't hurt him!" Mummy cried, and Percy could tell she was crying even though he wasn't looking at her face. Percy didn't like to see Mummy cry. He kept his face down._

_"Those your brothers?" asked The Stranger. "Those two who were playing without you?"_

_Percy didn't answer._

_"Bet they never let you play. Are you the only one with glasses?"_

_Percy didn't answer._

_"Your dad has glasses, but he doesn't look like much, does he?"_

_Percy didn't know what that question meant, but he wasn't going to answer anyway._

_"Bet you're smarter than he is. You look smarter. You remind me of me. 'Cept you're so –"_

_"Beej!" shrieked the girl. "Pay attention, will you?"_

_"I am paying attention," said The Stranger. "I'm just talking to this one here. He's sweet, innee?"_

_"You put him down," said Daddy, and Percy had never heard Daddy's voice sound like that, all low and shaky like he was angry, or maybe sad. Percy couldn't tell which, but he didn't look at Daddy either, because he was afraid Daddy might be crying too and Percy didn't want to see him cry either._

_"Gotta get 'em young," said The Stranger. "Before their filthy Muggle-loving parents can plant their rubbish ideas in their heads." The Stranger leaned his face closer to Percy's and Percy turned his face away more. The Stranger said softly, "You don't have to stay here, you know. We'll take care of you. You don't have to be like_ them _. You could be better. I can feel it in you. You're special. You're like me, better than what you came from."_

_Percy didn't understand very much of that, but what he did understand was that this person intended to take him away. He didn't like that at all. He whimpered and looked toward his family. Mummy and Daddy and Billy were watching him and looking scared. Charlie had his face buried in Daddy's trouser leg and the twins were crying._

_"Oi! Mudblood-loving filth!" The Stranger called, stepping toward Percy's family. "Don't need this one, do you? Looks like you've got enough already."_

_"Nothing much to do in a hovel like this," said the stranger with Percy's family as he nodded at Percy's house, "'cept eat and shag, I'd imagine."_

_All three strangers laughed at that. Percy wondered what 'shag' meant._

_"Sure you'll have plenty more, you can give up this one, can't you?" said The Stranger._

_"If you hurt him," said Daddy in that same tone that scared Percy. The Stranger interrupted him._

_"Oh, I'm not going to hurt him. I'm going to teach him to appreciate what he is." The Stranger looked at Percy again. "A pure-blood. And so, so very –"_

_"You sick son of a –" Daddy yelled, and then there was a big commotion, and the tears that Percy had been holding back this whole time finally came out and he started crying very loudly because he couldn't help it and he was jostled around and he couldn't see what was happening, but he could hear spells going off all around him and The Stranger was running with him, but then other hands were grabbing at him and they felt like familiar hands, like Daddy's hands, but Percy didn't dare open his eyes because it was all still so loud..._

Percy finally did open his eyes. The noise – the screaming, the crying, the flying spells – was all gone. He was alone in his bedroom and covered in sweat and tangled in his sheets. Light was streaming in through the window. It was morning and time to go.

 

* * *

Percy avoided Mr. Crouch's gaze as much as possible that day, afraid that he'd be asked for an answer before he was ready to give one. It wasn't that Percy didn't have an answer yet. He'd had his answer since the previous night when Ginny had finally left his room, an answer he'd felt even more strongly about once he'd woken up from his dream. But Percy was waiting until later on, when they were in the privacy of Mr. Crouch's home, to announce his final decision. Thankfully, Mr. Crouch didn't ask.

Until the end of day, that is, when Mr. Crouch was preparing to leave. Percy was off in a corner of the office, putting files away, his back to the rest of the room. Percy could just feel that something was coming.

"So!" Mr. Crouch said suddenly from behind Percy. Percy reluctantly turned to face his boss and, for what seemed like the first time that day, looked him right in the eye. Mr. Crouch gave him a faint, knowing smile that told Percy this was it. What would Mr. Crouch think of his answer? Would he think less of Percy? Percy's mind began to race. Perhaps this had all just been a test to see what Percy would do. What if Percy's answer was the wrong one?

"Will you be joining me tonight, Weatherby?" asked Mr. Crouch.

Percy opened his dry mouth and replied, "Yes, sir," in a soft sort of croak, barely getting the words out. He quickly cleared his throat. "Yes, sir," he said more clearly, holding his chin up. "I will be, yes."

"Good. Come along then. You know how Winky frets when we're late." At that, Mr. Crouch turned and marched from the office. Percy followed, heart pounding. He wondered what Mr. Crouch had really meant just now. Had Percy simply agreed to continue to work at Mr. Crouch's home, or had he just given himself to Barty Jr? Surely Mr. Crouch would be as clear as possible when asking _the_ question.

Of course, this was the same man who'd tricked Percy into walking right into Barty's trap yesterday, meanwhile staying behind at the Ministry to allow the filthy act to take place. The thought still turned Percy's stomach. He swallowed down his disgust as he trotted after Mr. Crouch toward the lifts.

When they arrived at the house, it was business as usual. The two men locked themselves in Mr. Crouch's home office and worked mostly in silence, speaking only when they had to, Mr. Crouch at his desk with his back to Percy, Percy in his place on the couch. They ate dinner this way too, continuing to work as they ate. Occasionally Percy would hear The Creak upstairs and the hairs on the back of his neck would stand on end.

The evening wore on and the sky outside began to dim behind the curtains. Percy could feel the clock running down.

With a huge sigh, a yawn and a stretch, Mr. Crouch finally spun in his chair to face Percy, who kept on working, head down. Mr. Crouch cleared his throat loudly, and Percy knew he'd have to look up. He did, looking his boss in the eye.

"I think we both know what I'm about to ask," said Mr. Crouch. "I don't have to say it. Do you have an answer?"

Percy put his quill down on the coffee table, took a breath and said with as much conviction and professionalism as he could, "I've decided, sir, that it would be in everyone's best interests if I took on the responsibility of... servicing your son." Percy averted his gaze immediately after saying it. It sounded ridiculous, no matter how confidently he said it. Though saying the words out loud seemed to make his stomach tingle in a not-altogether unpleasant way.

Mr. Crouch stared at him for a moment, scrutinising him in that way that made Percy want to fidget. "Interesting," he finally said. "Care to share your reasons?"

"Am I required to?"

Mr. Crouch shook his head. "No."

Percy wondered how it would look if he chose not to share. Like he didn't trust Mr. Crouch, that's how. He wondered if Mr. Crouch still expected his trust after what had happened.

"Well, sir, as your assistant it is my job to make your life easier. If your life is easier, so is mine, frankly. The most pressing problem you have at the moment appears to be Barty Jr. If I can take him off your hands, it would be beneficial to both of us."

Mr. Crouch nodded. "I see. How long were you planning to stay on in this capacity?"

"I hadn't thought that far ahead, sir. It's unclear how long I would need to. I suppose we could take it on a week-to-week basis."

Mr. Crouch nodded again. "You realise you'll have to stay overnight. Not every night, but on occasion."

"I understand, sir."

"Tonight would probably be a good night to start that if Barty wants you to stay."

Percy gulped again. "Yes, sir. Of course."

"You're really okay with this?"

Percy met his eyes again. "Yes. Are you?"

"I have to be," Mr. Crouch replied simply. "We all do what we have to do."

"Well, if I may say so, sir, I admire your resolve."

Mr. Crouch's eyebrows went up. "Oh?"

"Not many people would have the strength to do what you've done. You did what you felt was best for your family even though it went against everything you stood for."

"You admire me for that."

"I do. One must know when to set aside one's own personal code of conduct for something bigger than oneself, no?" The words came out of Percy's mouth as easily as air. He sounded convincing. And perhaps he did still admire Mr. Crouch a little. He'd have to figure that out later.

Mr. Crouch was still examining him shrewdly. Percy wondered if he'd gone too far with what he'd just said, but then Mr. Crouch nodded and his mouth twitched into a lopsided smile.

"Thank you. It means a lot to hear you say that."

Percy nodded too. "I mean every word."

"Well, then." Mr. Crouch looked back at his desk. "We're just about finished here, I think. Is there anything you require before you... retire? Winky can provide you with anything you wish."

Percy had to think. What did he need before embarking on this ridiculous adventure? He wondered what Barty would expect. Probably everything there was to expect; Barty seemed a little too wild to hold back much on anything and he was surely more experienced than Percy.

"I should probably wash up first," he said, his voice threatening to break. He cleared his throat. "And I should call home."

 

* * *

His mother shrieking at him through the fire was the very last thing Percy needed to hear just before sex, but it was unavoidable. He knew his mother wouldn't be happy that he wasn't coming home, but it couldn't be helped. He refrained from arguing. He assured her he'd be home soon. This, of course, had only prompted more shrieking, but Percy had quickly insisted that he was having trouble hearing her and that he'd give her a call the following day. He'd then pulled his head out of the fire and dug a finger into his ear, trying to get the ringing to stop.

"Weatherby."

Percy jumped and shot up onto his feet. Mr. Crouch, who'd left the room to give Percy privacy, had returned and was standing in the office doorway.

"Y-yes, sir."

"He's waiting in the basement," Mr. Crouch grumbled, looking down at the carpet. He shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled his feet. Apparently, the situation, now that it was imminent, was as awkward for him as it was Percy.

"Right. Er, thank you... I suppose."

Mr. Crouch stepped into the office and went for his desk, where he sat with a heavy sigh. Percy remained by the fireplace, watching his boss.

"He's been awfully quiet tonight," Percy said.

"Barty? Yes, I noticed. I suppose the prospect of getting something he wants has put him on his best behaviour."

"Have you told him that I've agreed?"

Mr. Crouch looked up at him. "Winky told him while you were speaking to your parents. Your mother..." Mr. Crouch frowned as though remembering something particularly unpleasant.

"You heard her," Percy guessed, looking down with embarrassment. "I apologise for that. I should have warned you she can get quite loud."

"She hates that you're here so much."

"Yes. She doesn't understand how important my career is."

"Mm," Mr. Crouch nodded. "Well, mothers are like that. Of course she worries. Wouldn't be doing her job if she didn't."

"Yes, sir."

"There's still time to change your mind, you know."

"Why would you think I'd want to?"

"Because you're stalling."

Percy looked down.

"May I ask you a personal question?"

Percy almost wanted to laugh. How could anything be more personal than asking Percy to add sex to his list of duties?

"Yes, sir."

"Are you a virgin?"

Percy nearly choked on his own saliva. He narrowly avoided a coughing fit. "I don't see how that's relevant."

"It's not. Not to me, anyway. I was just curious because... well, you are so young –"

"I'm of age. Nearly eighteen, actually."

"Still. Also, I'm aware of your academic career. You've been a busy young man, what with all those perfect grades, being Prefect and Head Boy, and then landing a Ministry job straight out of school. You can't have had much time for a social life."

It was true, but Percy wasn't about to admit it. "I still don't see how this is significant."

Mr. Crouch was studying him again, and Percy could swear there was a hint of something like pity in his eyes. Percy tried not to show his annoyance.

"I know what I'm doing," Percy said confidently. "This is what's best for everyone concerned. The actual, physical act isn't important. There won't be any feelings behind it, so it won't mean anything."

Mr. Crouch wasn't appeased; the infuriating look in his eyes remained. He sighed again, looked away and made a shooing motion with his hand. "Go on, then. He's waiting in the basement."

Without another word, Percy left the office. What was that in the old man's eyes? Remorse? Concern? Let him worry, Percy thought. He deserved it after what he'd done.

Percy marched down the stairs, shutting the basement door behind him. A soft light crept up the stairs and beckoned him downward. The next thing Percy saw as he descended was a set of faded, moth-eaten living room furniture, and just beyond that was an old bed, its greying sheets dishevelled. There was an ancient, mirror-fronted armoire in the bedroom area, and beyond that was darkness. Percy thought he could make out the angular shapes of old, forgotten furniture along the back wall, as well as something else; the shape of a man and the shape of an elf.

"Barty," he said with authority, stepping into the makeshift living room area. "I'm here, you can stop hiding."

Slowly, without a sound, Barty stepped into the soft light. His ghostly-pale face was expressionless, his straw-coloured hair was still a tousled mess. Barty clenched and unclenched his fists convulsively as he approached. Winky stayed where she was in the shadows.

"Winky told me you were coming," he said softly, stepping around the bed. "I almost didn't believe her."

"Yes, well," said Percy, glancing around with distaste at the dusty, gloomy basement, "I decided this was best. Must we stay down here? I thought you might have a room upstairs."

"Father doesn't want me fucking you upstairs."

"Master Barty!" Winky whispered, finally stepping out of the darkness and looking as distressed as ever. "Such language!"

"Oh, keep your tea towel on," said Barty dismissively. Barty now stepped into the living room area, eyes trained intensely on Percy as though he wasn't sure Percy was really there.

"She's right, there's no need for language like that," said Percy. He resisted the urge to step back as Barty came closer. Barty's eyes travelled down his body, and a low rumble issued from his throat as he stepped right up and put his hands on Percy's waist. Percy entire body stiffened and he turned his face away.

"You showered," whispered Barty.

"Yes. I thought it was only polite."

"I'm sure you were clean before. Perfect thing like you." Barty leaned in and began nuzzling at Percy's face. Percy breaths began to tremble. He felt awkward, uncertain what to do with his hands. And worse, that not-so unpleasant tingling had returned to the pit of his stomach and was working its way toward his groin.

"Oh, I'm going to have fun with you," whispered Barty, wrapping his arms around Percy and pulling him close. "And this time I get the real you, don't I? No need to Imperius you again. Is there?"

"No, definitely not," Percy said flatly, still standing stiffly in Barty's arms. He stiffened even more as Barty's body pressed into his and he felt the evidence of Barty's arousal. _What am I doing here?_ Percy thought. His eyes darted toward Winky again, who was still standing across the room. Her face was lowered and she was wringing her hands. "She won't be staying for the duration, will she?" Percy asked quietly so Winky wouldn't hear.

"Winky!" Barty called over his shoulder. "Go now."

"Yes, Master Barty," said Winky. And with a deep bow, and then a loud _crack_ , she disappeared. Percy gulped. He and Barty Jr. were alone.

Barty's hands stroked up and down Percy's back and Percy soon felt Barty's lips on his neck, moist and warm, sucking and kissing. Percy was hardening inside his trousers and he hated that Barty was affecting him that way. He began to feel silly just standing there stiffly, so he finally brought his hands up and placed them on Barty's upper arms. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, but every time he opened his eyes, they landed squarely on the bed across the room with its old, faded sheets, sagging mattress and flattened pillows. This was where Percy was going to lose his virginity, and to a man he despised. The sadness that welled up in his chest competed with his arousal.

But then Barty grunted and gripped Percy tighter and sucked at his neck more ravenously. Percy couldn't help but gasp and arch his neck, his arms going around Barty even more. His cock gave a little twitch. He was starting to pant. Was he actually enjoying this? Percy thought he was and he was thoroughly disappointed in himself.

Barty's mouth finally found his. He remembered kissing while under the Imperius Curse, and it had seemed a lot easier and more natural then than it did now. His lips kept accidentally brushing Barty's nose, which Barty seemed to think was cute.

"Don't do much snogging, do you?" Barty whispered with a little smile. Percy kissed him harder just to shut him up.

Even back when Percy had been dating Penelope, the few times they'd kissed had been awkward and embarrassing. Percy began to wonder if perhaps being Imperiused during this would be a better option.

"Come," whispered Barty, who disengaged, took Percy by the hand and led him toward the bed. "That wasn't really your first kiss, was it?"

"What? No, of course not," Percy said with a frown.

"Well, you're not very good at it."

Percy glared at the back of Barty's head. "What's that, then, pillow talk?"

Barty chuckled, and when he turned to face Percy again, his narrow face and haunted eyes didn't seem quite so menacing. He was smiling a genuine smile that looked almost friendly. "I think it's cute. You're a virgin, aren't you? Shoulda known. Dad talks about how perfect you are all the time."

"He does?" Percy asked incredulously. "With you?"

"Nah." Barty took a seat on the bed, facing Percy. "Never talks to me anymore. Expects me to stay hidden, out of his way, doesn't he? No, I overhear things, when he's talking to Winky or to someone else through the Floo. You were a model student. A Prefect and Head Boy. The Ministry practically begged you to join their ranks." Barty's eyes wandered down Percy's body again. "You were a good little boy, weren't ya? Concentrating on school. Saving yourself. Mummy and Daddy must be proud." Barty met his eyes again. "Take your clothes off."

Percy straightened up a bit. "Oh. Are we starting already?"

"Already started." Barty leaned back on his hands and spread his legs, his obvious erection snaking down his inner thigh. "In case you hadn't noticed." His eyes went down to Percy's crotch and he grinned. "Oh, but I think you had noticed. Come on." Barty leaned forward, reached out and pressed his fingertips to Percy's bulge, gently caressing it as he looked up into Percy's eyes again. Percy forced himself to hold Barty's gaze and to not shudder with pleasure. "Show me," Barty whispered. He retracted his hand, leaned back again and grinned at Percy like a kid about to receive the biggest, best present on Christmas morning.

Percy reached up and began loosening his tie. "Bet you're excited," he said with barely concealed contempt. "You can't have seen much action being locked up here for over ten years."

"Damn right. And I would never have guessed that after waiting this long, my first time would be with something as pretty as you."

Percy's stomach tingled again. He averted his eyes as his cheeks began to heat up with a bashful blush. "I'm not _pretty_ ," he said. "I'm a man."

"Doesn't matter," Barty said. "You're a pretty, young thing. Come on, Pretty. Let's see that sweet, young body of yours."

Percy felt almost as dirty as he had when he'd been jolted out of the Imperius Curse the night before. He removed his tie and his shirt, tossed them onto the old carpet beneath his feet, and then started on his belt and his trousers. He was having serious second thoughts. His first time couldn't be _this_. This was sick. He felt like a piece of meat. He was even starting to lose his erection.

"Yeah, that's it," Barty whispered, eyes focused on Percy's hands as they unfastened his belt and then his button. He then zipped down his fly and pushed down his trousers and his pants, his half-hard dick flopping out, bouncing a bit.

Barty nodded his approval as he began rubbing his own crotch. "Fuck, am I lucky or what?" he said, squeezing his own bulge. "Step out of them and get over here."

Percy couldn't take his eyes off Barty's face. He was strongly reminded of their first encounter in the kitchen, when Percy had glanced back as he'd walked away and saw on Barty's face the unmistakable look of desire. It was a look that fascinated Percy. No one had ever looked at him that way.

Percy stepped out of his clothes and left them on the floor. He stepped closer to Barty, who let go of himself long enough to take both of Percy's hands and pull Percy down onto his lap. Percy felt ridiculous; he was taller than Barty and being forced to sit on the man's lap like a child. Of course, he couldn't help but notice that his cock was becoming rock solid again.

"Can you feel that?" Barty whispered, pushing up gently against Percy's thighs. "Feel how hard you make me? Been that way since you started coming round." He reached up and caressed Percy's cheek. "Can barely get rid of it. Can't stop thinking about you."

Percy wasn't about to let this man flatter him (even if Barty was succeeding). "Can we get on with this? It's getting late and I do still have to get up early tomorrow. We don't all have the luxury of being in hiding, you know."

"Shhh," Barty hushed him. He placed his hand on the back of Percy's head and pulled Percy in for another kiss, meanwhile his other hand began caressing Percy's belly and then finally moved down to grip his cock. Percy tried not to squirm, but didn't succeed for long; that warm hand wrapped around him like that felt too good.

"That's my good boy," Barty whispered against his mouth as he gently stroked up and down Percy's length. "This is what you've been needing, isn't it? A little attention down there, hm?" His fingertip rubbed at Percy's slit, playing with the moisture there.

 _You'll hate yourself in the morning,_ Percy thought. _You'll hate yourself if you give in._ Percy suspected he'd hate himself anyway, and the way that hand was playing with him was just too good. He couldn't keep resisting.

His arms gingerly found their way up and around Barty's shoulders. He hung onto him, tilted his head and kissed him deeply, this time taking more of a lead and feeling far less awkward. Barty made a soft noise of approval.

"Guess I was right," he whispered when the kiss slowed. "A little attention down there was all you needed. When's the last time someone gave you a good tug, hm? Besides yourself, of course."

Percy blushed and lowered his gaze. He saw Barty smile in his periphery.

"Never, eh?" Barty made a soft tutting noise. "That's a damn shame, isn't it? Let's remedy that, yeah? Up. Go lie down."

Percy felt embarrassed and unsteady. He shakily stood, and Barty instantly helped him, gripping his arm to steady him. He then stood himself and took Percy's hands, guided him down to the bed and then went down with him. Percy felt completely out of sorts. Reality seemed to be playing tricks on him. This man was being almost gentlemanly. Percy frowned up at Barty as Barty laid him down on his back and hovered over him on all fours.

"Why don't you spread those nice, long legs for me," Barty whispered, shifting to situate himself between Percy's legs. Percy obeyed, spread open for him, and his cock twitched with anticipation.

Barty began to slither down his body, planting little kisses along Percy's torso as he went. Percy watched him descend, and when Barty's face was finally level with Percy's groin, Barty's eyes popped up to meet Percy's as he extended his tongue and licked a long, wet path all the way up Percy's shaft.

Percy's eyes unfocused for a moment. He blinked rapidly to refocus and watched Barty's darting tongue flick about the head of his prick. This was unreal. Known Death Eater Barty Crouch Jr. was licking his cock. Barty's eyes closed and he slipped Percy into his mouth. He shifted a bit to get comfortable and settle in for a good, long suck.

Percy felt absurdly and deliciously wonderful. He bent his knees and let them fall open as far as they'd go. His hips began to gently rock. He loved this. This was incredible. Why, oh, why hadn't he ever done this before? Penelope had offered. What the hell had he said to her? Oh, yes. He'd said they were too young and had too many other, more important, things to be getting on with, school and worrying about their futures and the like, and there'd be plenty of time for such things after they were married and she ought to be ashamed of herself, but he forgave her, as he understood the temptation and how it might affect those with weaker resolve. And then, a few days later, for some strange reason, she'd broken up with him. Percy hadn't quite understood why at the time, but he thought he did now. Everything was clearer now; what all his peers at school had been talking about, all those stolen glances between the boys and the girls, the whispers and giggles and notes passed back and forth. Percy had always thought them all silly and immature. And perhaps, compared to him, they had been. But maybe, just maybe, he could see where they'd been coming from.

 _This_ was _incredible_.

Barty was humming softly around his length, sucking enthusiastically now, and Percy was completely lost in it. He kept fighting the urge to just shut his eyes and enjoy, because the sight of his own stiff prick disappearing into the mouth of another, over and over, was too mesmerising, too novel, too ridiculously obscene and beautiful and dirty and perfect. He _loved_ this! He loved it so much! He'd never deprive himself again! He'd been a fool, an absolute fool, to deny himself this, and... and... and...

The wonderful sensation stopped suddenly. Percy opened his eyes, realising he'd shut them. His voice died, and he realised he'd been crying out. He relaxed his hands and realised, with the most shock of all, that he'd been gripping Barty's hair.

He looked down at Barty, who was grinning devilishly up at him, his mouth wet.

"W-why'd you stop?" Percy panted.

Barty wiped his mouth. "Wasn't trying to make you come. Was just trying to drive you mad."

Percy suddenly felt fingers pressing at the sensitive, flat area just under his balls. Barty licked his fingertips and rubbed more, making Percy groan and squirm. For the first time in Percy's life, the threat of losing control didn't bother him so much. And in fact, he suddenly realised, perhaps he was more in control than he thought. Barty's eyes were on his body, the way it moved, the way it responded to his touch. Percy wondered... He began to make deliberately sexual noises, he arched his back and neck and rocked his hips, and when he looked back down at Barty's face, the hungry look in the man's eyes had intensified. A little thrill shot through Percy's body. He could make Barty look if he wanted to.

Percy, dazed with lust and new-found power, raised his legs to give Barty better access. He pulled his knees back with his hands, opening himself up. Barty's eyes went down to look at the exposed area and a little groan of need escaped his throat. Percy just barely stifled a smile.

Barty buried his face down there, took Percy's balls into his mouth, his fingers still exploring just below, moving down further and gliding over Percy's entrance. Percy shuddered, pushing up into Barty's mouth, his little hole tensing against those fingers. Percy brought a hand to his face, gave his palm a thorough lick and then reached down, gripped himself and began stroking. And Barty was watching him as he sucked Percy's balls, eyes still drinking him in as his wet fingers began to work their way into Percy's opening. Percy tensed up a bit at that, nerves flooding his belly. He'd never done this before, never had something _inserted_ into that particular hole, and he wasn't sure that hole was meant for such a thing, though he was fully aware that loads of people did this. But discomfort aside, he really wanted it.

Soon Barty's finger slipped deep inside and located the most wonderful little spot in the whole world. Percy completely lost it. When Barty slithered back up his body until his face was level with Percy's, Percy reached up, pulled Barty's face down to his and kissed him hard. Barty smiled at him when Percy released him.

"Aren't you afraid of me anymore?" he murmured.

Percy was strongly reminded that he probably should be. But just then Barty's finger pressed more firmly against his prostate and Percy's eyes rolled up in his head.

"Oh, you've been waiting for this, haven't you?" Barty whispered, slowly removing his finger. "Been just waiting for someone to come along and take you. WINKY!" he suddenly yelled, and the house elf appeared right by the bed looking fearful and embarrassed, averting her large eyes.

Percy jumped, drew his legs up immediately to hide himself and tried to scramble underneath the sheets.

"Ah, ah, ah," said Barty, gripping Percy's arm a bit too tightly. "You stay where I put you. Lie down. Open up again."

Percy stared at him in disbelief, but the grip on his arm told him Barty meant business. He lay back down and reluctantly spread his legs again. He kept his eyes on Barty. He didn't dare look over at Winky out of sheer embarrassment.

Barty grinned down at him and began playing with Percy's genitals again, right there in front of Winky, who, Percy saw in his periphery, turned away from the bed slightly.

"Yes, Master Barty?" she squeaked.

"We're going to need... Look at me, Winky."

With a little whimper, Winky slowly looked up at him. Percy didn't look at her, but he was sure she was keeping her eyes on Barty's face and nowhere else. He tried not to squirm, but it was clear that Barty's fondling was meant to make him do just that.

"Yes, Master," squeaked Winky. "Winky did not mean any disrespect. Winky is _trying_ to be respectful."

"I know," said Barty soothingly as he stroked Percy's length. "It's all right. First, will you please hand me Master Percy's wand. It's just there in that pile of his clothes on the floor."

Percy watched as his wand passed over his body from Winky's small hand to Barty's large one.

"Now then," said Barty, "Master Percy and I are going to need some lubricant."

Percy gulped and looked up at the ceiling. They were going to have sex. Real sex. Barty Crouch Jr. was going to be inside him. Did he still want that as much as he had just a moment ago. This business with Winky had thrown everything off. Well, Barty seemed to be enjoying himself, anyway. He was rubbing Percy with determination now, and speaking to Winky as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening, meanwhile casting little glances at Percy every now and then to check how he was doing. Barty was getting off on this.

"You remember," Barty said. "The kind I used to ask you to bring me when I was a teenager. That same stuff. Can you still find me some?"

Percy shut his eyes and turned his face to the side, toward Barty and away from Winky. This was sick. He was about to come right there in front of the elf and there was nothing he could do about it. What would happen if he resisted? He'd probably be Imperiused again, and he didn't want that. _Maintain control,_ he thought. _Don't show fear._

He closed his eyes, tried to forget Winky was there and just give into the moment. Soon, he was moaning and sighing and rocking his hips. His noises grew louder, and out of nowhere he felt Barty lean down and lick all the way up his neck.

It was all coming to a head and he couldn't stop now if he wanted to. His voice rose from his body in ecstasy, unchecked by his brain, and his muscles tensed and next thing he knew he was squirting come onto his belly.

Winky was still there, he could hear her, and for a few glorious seconds he loved that he was being watched. His arousal did something to him, made him think things he wouldn't normally, made him enjoy things he should find appalling.

The pleasure began to ebb, and the silence that followed was the most complete silence Percy had ever heard, despite his own panting. _Stay in control,_ he thought. _This is fine. Nothing wrong with this. You're not embarrassed. You're not afraid._ He opened his eyes and looked up at Barty, who was watching him with a soft, hot look in his eyes, his hand cupping Percy's spent cock.

"Winky," Barty said, not taking his eyes off Percy, "we're going to need that lube straight away."

Percy tingled all over. This was really going to happen. Winky disappeared and Barty began to undress.

"How long will she take?" asked Percy.

"Couple minutes," said Barty as he tossed his faded t-shirt aside. He had a narrow frame and was even paler than Percy, or perhaps only looked paler because his body was completely devoid of freckles; the freckles seemed to be isolated to his face. What little hair he had on his body was as blond as the hair on his head. "Are you asking because you want her to hurry... or because you don't?"

Percy hesitated. "I don't know."

Barty grinned. "Well, that's better than nothing, I suppose." He began unfastening his jeans next. Percy didn't know whether to watch or not. He figured it would be rude not to, though Barty wouldn't have noticed anyway; his eyes were still focused on Percy's body. He got his jeans off and kicked them over the side of the bed. He then swung a leg over Percy and laid on top of him.

"How often do you touch yourself?" Barty whispered.

"I-I don't know," Percy stammered, surprised by the question. "Often enough."

"Every night, I bet. Uptight thing like you. Keeping everything all bottled up all the time. All that anxiety and tension've gotta go some place, don't they?" Barty began rubbing his hard cock against Percy as he brushed his lips against Percy's cheek. "I bet I know where it all goes. Right out the end of your dick. Every single night, yeah?"

Percy closed his eyes as Barty's lips began caressing his neck.

"I can help you with that. Gonna help you work out some of that pent-up tension you've got. Look how much more relaxed you are already."

"Well, of course I'm relaxed, I just came," Percy pointed out. Barty raised his face and looked down at him with his patient, cocky gaze. He leaned down and nipped at Percy's lips, and Percy immediately nipped back, almost involuntarily, and then they were kissing again. Percy couldn't stop. He didn't want to. He wrapped his arms around Barty and became so engrossed in making out with him that he didn't even stop when he heard Winky reappear.

"M-master Barty?"

"Mmph," Barty grunted against Percy's mouth. Percy opened his eyes as they kissed and saw Barty hold out his hand. Winky gently placed the little bottle against his palm. Barty grabbed it and then shooed her away. A moment later, she was gone.

Barty stopped kissing Percy, grinned down at him and sat up on top of him. He placed his hand at Percy's throat and wrapped it gently around his neck. "How badly do you want this?" he asked, giving Percy's neck a little squeeze.

 _Definitely not a position of power,_ Percy thought. But one thing he knew for sure, even though he didn't dare look over at it, was that Barty was no longer holding Percy's wand. It was lying on the bed next to them. Percy wondered if he'd have to make a grab for it as Barty's grip on his neck tightened just a little bit.

"I want it very much," Percy replied, and he wasn't lying exactly, he just wasn't sure he was ready.

"I can tell. I'm just surprised that you can admit it."

"I've surprised myself quite a bit today too."

Barty gave Percy's neck one final little squeeze, then released him and took his hand away to uncork the bottle.

"Wait!" Percy said suddenly. Barty stopped and looked at him.

"Second thoughts," said Barty knowingly. He snorted. "Shoulda known. Well, then..." Barty reached for Percy's wand. "Guess we'll have to shut you up again. And just when I thought we were making so much prog –"

"No, wait, please!" Percy begged, holding up his hands. "Hear me out. I'm not saying I don't want to do this, but the thing is I'm not the sort to just dive into things without having a thorough look at them first."

Barty's hand had stopped in mid-air on its way to the wand. "Go on."

"It might be more enjoyable for both of us if I knew a bit more about what we're going to do. Then I could be more... involved, so to speak."

Barty arched an eyebrow. "You want to do research?"

"Yes, exactly! I do understand that my inexperience is a turn-on for you, and I don't want to take that away completely, but gaining at least a little knowledge of all this beforehand would be extremely beneficial to me."

Barty was grinning lopsidedly at him. He put the bottle down and lowered his upper body until his face was right at Percy's, their noses bumping. "That's what you do, isn't it? Figure things out, analyse, pick things apart. That what you've been doing with me this whole time? Trying to figure me out?" Barty sighed and sat up again. "Look, I'll spare you the Imperio this time, but only because I'd rather not fuck a mindless zombie."

Percy exhaled with relief. "Thank you."

"Now turn over."

Percy blinked at him. "Turn over? But... I thought –"

Barty grabbed Percy's wand before Percy could stop him and he flicked it at the little bottle, which rose into to the air and uncorked itself. He held out his free hand and made the floating bottle tip itself sideways, dribbling a small amount of the clear, colourless, syrup-like liquid onto his fingers. "No more talking." Barty stood up tall on his knees over Percy's body, giving Percy room to move. "On your stomach. Now."

"I'd really rather not."

"I understand. It's your first time and it's all new and scary to you. But this is what you came down here to do. You knew this was coming, so be a good little boy and turn over for me. And you won't be needing those." Another flick of Percy's wand, and Percy's glasses flew off his face. Percy made a grab for them, but missed and, squinting, watched them soar across the room and land somewhere out of sight in the living room area. Percy looked back up at Barty, at his own wand tip which was pointed at him.

"Don't make me force you," said Barty, touching the wand tip to Percy's throat. "You know I don't want to do that."

Percy had to roll his eyes. "Wonder what you call this," he muttered. For his cheek, he got an even firmer jab in the throat. He finally rolled over onto his belly.

Barty got in between his legs, spread them, and began probing between his cheeks, caressing his opening. Percy tried not to react. The moment, so to speak, had passed and he definitely wasn't in the mood anymore. He strained to see what Barty was doing until Barty pushed his head back down and held it down while the fingers of his other hand worked their way inside Percy's body.

"This isn't how I pictured this," Percy said softly as he stared across the room at the dark, shabby-looking living room furniture. "My first time, I mean. Even a few moments ago I had a much nicer image in my head." Percy tensed as Barty's fingers slipped all the way in. He tried not to react, but couldn't help it as Barty located his prostate again. His body jerked and a little grunt escaped him. His hole clenched around Barty's fingers.

"That's it," Barty whispered, and Percy could hear the smile on his face. "Can't help it, can you? Can't hide how much you want it."

"I don't want it like this – Oh!" Barty slipped another finger inside and then resumed his assault on the sensitive spot. Percy's body arched, pushing his bottom into the air and his crotch up off the bed.

"That's my good boy," said Barty as he released Percy's head and instead began playing with Percy's cock. "Getting nice and hard again, aren't you? You're body doesn't lie."

Percy was starting to panic. His heart began pattering faster and his breathing quickened. He repeated, "I don't want it like this – UNGH!" Barty shoved his fingers in all the way, unceremoniously. Things were getting way out of hand. Percy had to act. He turned his head and squinted at the dingy sheets. His wand stood out against them, a blurry and slightly crooked brown line. He made a grab for it, but Barty was quicker, releasing Percy's cock, seizing his hand and pinning it to the bed by Percy's head.

"Ah, ah, ah," Barty whispered right into Percy's ear. " _Baaaaad_ little fuck toy." Barty sat up, shimmied closer to Percy's body, pulled his fingers out of him and clamped his hand down on the back of Percy's neck a little too hard for Percy's liking. Percy couldn't see what he was doing, but a few seconds later Percy heard the wet sound of Barty coating his prick with lubricant.

"Open up for Master Barty," Barty hissed, shimmying closer still, nudging his knees up against Percy's thighs to widen them and keep them from closing. "Fuck me, you look good like that, all spread out for me." Barty stroked a slippery finger down Percy's crack, over his hole. "Oh, we're going to have some fun."

Barty laid on Percy's back. Still holding Percy's head down, Barty gripped himself with his other hand and nudged his prick against Percy's hole.

"You don't have to do it like this," Percy gasped, struggling against him.

"No, I don't. But it's so much fun." Barty began pushing in. Percy cried out, struggled harder.

"Barty, please... please – AAAHHH!"

"Afraid you're going to like it even though it isn't on your terms?" Barty asked. He put his mouth to Percy's ear and whispered, "Scream for me, bitch," and then he pushed all the way inside.

Percy did scream. It was the most terrifyingly uncomfortable thing he'd ever experienced, and yet there was that sweet little spot inside him, the little spot that Barty was currently rubbing right up against. Percy's whole body shuddered with unwanted pleasure. He riled against Barty even harder, trying to ignore the stimulation, but Barty gripped both his hands and pinned them down, and he angled himself specifically to keep hitting that sensitive spot on every thrust.

"You're not in control of your body anymore," Barty whispered, panting now from his effort. " _I_ am. I own you. I can make you feel whatever I want."

Soon Percy's cries subsided. The discomfort was melting away as his body adjusted, and what was left was pure, unbridled pleasure. He didn't want to like this, didn't want to give Barty the satisfaction. He shut his mouth tight, his eyes too, and didn't make a peep.

"Think you can hide from me?" Barty whispered in his ear, his whisper shaking as he pounded at Percy's arse. "Think you can just shut your eyes and disappear? I can still _seeeeeeee yooooooouuuuu_."

Barty released Percy's hands and instead hooked an arm underneath Percy, across his shoulders. His other hand went down and underneath Percy's body, found his prick and started fondling him again. Percy clenched his jaw shut tight.

"I can feel every reaction, every little burst of pleasure inside you. I can see how much you love this. Your very first fuck is with a convicted Death Eater, and you _love_ it."

Barty began pummelling Percy even harder and stroking him faster. A tiny little whimper escaped Percy's sealed lips.

"You feel soooo good right now, don't you? You know how generous I'm going to be? I'm going to let you come first, even though you already came." And just to prove how in control he was, Barty unhooked his arm from around Percy's shoulders and raised up off him a bit, giving him more room to move if he wanted, to try and escape if he wanted. But Percy knew that Barty knew that he wasn't going anywhere. Percy remained silent and still, but for his shaky breaths. As his climax began to wash over him, his back arched even more, pushing his bottom up into Barty's assault. Percy turned his face into the mattress and bit down on a clump of rumpled sheets, trying to keep quiet. He did feel so good. He felt incredible. And he hated himself for it.

"Can't hide from me," Barty rasped as his own climax drew nearer. "I see you, every last bit of you. I see you... I see you... _aaaahhhhhh..._ "

Barty's thrusts and his breathing became erratic and Percy felt liquid squirting deep inside him. Percy gripped the sheets tight with his fists and his teeth, trying to control himself, but he couldn't stop himself from alternately pushing back into Barty's assault and thrusting forward into Barty's hand.

Percy's climax petered out first, and moments later Barty was shuddering to a halt on his back. Barty slowly withdrew and Percy heard him grunt at the friction on his sensitive dick. Percy felt Barty drop onto the bed next to him, but Percy didn't move right away. He relaxed his back and lowered his groin to the bed, but otherwise he stayed right where he was, sheets still in his mouth, though loosely now.

"Look at you," Barty panted, giving Percy a poke in the ribs. "Still as tense as ever. Thought I mighta managed to fuck that massive stick out of your arse. Guess not."

Percy finally removed the sheets from his mouth. "Are we finished?"

"For now. What, you're not thinking of leaving, are you? Perfectly good bed right here. I'd like to have you on-hand throughout the night."

Percy slowly turned his head and looked up at him. "Are you saying you're going to hold me here against my will?"

"No." Barty laid down on his side, facing Percy, propped himself up on his elbow and grinned. "You want to leave? Thought you'd be hanging round 'til morning. Did I get to you that much?"

Percy's jaw muscles twitched. Perhaps Barty had gotten to him that much, but he wasn't about to admit it. And besides, he'd promised Mr. Crouch he'd stay the night. "No," he said. "I just... wondered." Percy rolled over, sat up and began pulling the covers up over himself. "I'll stay if you want."

"Good." Barty picked up Percy's wand and gave it two little flicks; one to dry the wet spot Percy had left on the bed and a second to extinguish the torches. The basement went completely dark. He then tossed the wand over the bed, onto the floor where Percy's clothes were. He got under the covers too, and arranged the pillows properly, side-by-side behind them.

Percy lay down on his back and pulled the covers up over his chest. Barty moved around beside him for a while before finally settling down right up against Percy's left side, cuddling, an arm snaking across Percy's waist. Percy felt Barty's lips on his shoulder. He tried not to fidget.

"Why did you come to me?" Barty whispered.

After a moment's hesitation, Percy replied, "I have a job to do."

"I'm a 'job'?"

"My job is to make my boss's life easier. So, yes. You are."

Barty shifted a bit, cuddled up more, buried his face in Percy's neck with a contented little groan and began nuzzling. Percy's breathing quickened and his heart pattered. Barty's mouth still felt good on his skin.

"We'll loosen you up yet," Barty whispered. "Gotta learn to give up control sometime, eh?"

Percy said nothing.

"Goodnight, my Pretty Thing," Barty breathed in his ear. He laid a soft kiss there before finally settling down, still wrapped around Percy. Percy lay perfectly still for a long time afterwards, blinking up into the darkness.

 

* * *

"Master Percy? … Master Percy, it is time to wake up."

Percy stirred, furrowed his brow and grumbled. The voice sounded familiar to him, but didn't sound like anyone who should be in his home. Alarm bells began to sound in his head and his eyes popped open. He found himself staring right into the enormous, baleful eyes of Winky the house elf.

Winky held his glasses out to him. "Good morning, Master Percy."

Percy quickly remembered; he was still at the Crouch house, in the basement with Barty Jr. He'd had sex last night. He wasn't a virgin anymore. He had no idea how to feel about that yet.

He sat up, with some difficulty as a sleeping Barty Jr. was wrapped around him from behind, took the glasses from Winky and put them on. The basement was illuminated by soft torchlight again. The tiny window in one of the upper corners of the room was boarded up, so telling the time of day was impossible. Percy didn't feel like it was morning at all. He felt as though he'd just gotten to sleep. Understandable, considering how often Barty had woken him in the night to have his way with Percy.

He rubbed his eyes and groaned, "What time is it?"

"You has one hour and one half before you must leave for work with Master Crouch. Breakfast is ready and clean clothes is waiting upstairs in the guest room."

"Clean clothes." Percy frowned down at her. "There are clean clothes for me?"

Winky nodded. "Yes. Master Crouch is sending Winky to Master Percy's home to fetch clothes for him."

Percy was fully alert now, his eyes wide. He almost jumped out of bed, but then remembered he was still completely naked. "You've been to my home? Did anyone see you?"

"The One That is Two did see Winky, Master Percy, but only for a moment, then Winky was gone."

"The one that is..." Percy parroted dumbly, but he quickly worked out what she meant. "The twins," he sighed, and rubbed his forehead. He wished he knew how the twins would react to seeing Winky, if they'd tell their parents and siblings or not, but he had no idea. They'd always been a bit of a mystery to him.

"Well, it can't be helped now, I suppose," he muttered. "What's this about breakfast?"

Winky pointed out the dressing gown that she'd procured for Percy. It wasn't his own and it looked much too big for him. She turned her back while he got out of bed and donned the black robe. He slipped his wand into one of the pockets and followed Winky upstairs.

The house was as still and dark as ever, though shafts of silver-grey morning light seeped in through cracks in curtains here and there. Sounds of clinking cutlery told Percy that Mr. Crouch was already in the kitchen. When he arrived, he found Mr. Crouch at the table, stirring his tea and frowning at the _Daily Prophet_.

"Rubbish," he muttered and slapped the paper down on the table. He looked up and found Percy standing in the doorway, watching him. "Oh. Good morning, Weatherby. Have a seat. Eat up. Long day ahead."

Percy took a seat across from Mr. Crouch and began serving himself tea and toast and eggs. Percy had never felt so completely surreal in his life. The kitchen was lit by a strange mixture of torchlight and what little morning light was allowed through the closed curtains. Winky scurried about doing whatever her morning duties entailed, and Percy's boss sat across from him sipping tea in a dressing gown that looked just like the one Percy wore. Meanwhile, Percy was still sore from the night before. He shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden chair while flashes of himself all laid out, naked and writhing popped in his mind like fireworks, Barty, naked and rock-hard, hovering over him, face buried between Percy's legs...

Percy froze and looked at the man across the table, suddenly wondering exactly how loud they'd been last night. Mr. Crouch was ignoring him completely it seemed. Why? Simply embarrassed at what had obviously happened in his basement last night? Or was it embarrassment at having to _listen_ to what had happened in his basement last night? Surely someone had remembered to cast a silencing spell.

"Have you seen this?" Mr. Crouch asked suddenly, looking up at Percy. Both men seemed to pause and stare at each other uncertainly for a moment. Mr. Crouch finally looked down again and muttered, "No, of course you haven't. Death Eaters. Apparently some of the crazier ones are getting a bit mischievous."

"Oh?" Percy tried desperately not to think about Barty, but the man's naked body kept popping into his head.

"Running around, screaming about You-Know-Who's return, scaring wizards and Muggles."

"Oh, dear," said Percy with genuine concern, frowning at him. "When did all this happen?"

"Last night."

"Magic wasn't involved, was it?"

"Afraid so. The Obliviators were called out at around three a.m. to deal with it. Three Muggles were just leaving a pub in London when they were accosted by a group of witches and wizards."

"Peasegood couldn't have been happy about that."

"No, and I expect he'll be complaining about it to anyone who'll listen. Don't engage him. You won't have the time to indulge his pity party today."

"Yes, sir."

Percy was feeling much more comfortable now they'd started the day by discussing something, _anything_ , besides his night with Barty Jr. He tucked into his eggs as Mr. Crouch began rattling off all the things they had to get done that day. The bizarre night he'd just had was all but forgotten as work became the focus, but then the creaking of basement stairs sounded. Mr. Crouch stopped talking and looked apprehensively toward the kitchen's entrance. Everything about him tensed, even his moustache seemed to bristle. Percy didn't look around. He kept his eyes on his boss and his ears alert for approaching footsteps.

The footsteps retreated up the stairs to the second floor. Percy let out a silent sigh of relief.

Mr. Crouch cleared his throat. "If I may ask..."

Percy lowered his gaze and concentrated on his food, although he suddenly wasn't very hungry.

"You don't have to answer. It isn't any of my business. But... how were things for you last night?"

Percy's mouth went dry. He reluctantly met Mr. Crouch's eyes. "It was fine."

"You're all right, then?"

"Yes. Shouldn't I be?"

"Yes, of course," Mr. Crouch replied, a bit flustered. "I just wondered if everything went smoothly. With Barty. He can be a bit of a handful."

Percy's mind flashed on an image of his own hand playing between Barty's legs. He looked down and pushed his food around on his plate. "It was fine."

"So... you'll return then?"

Percy shoved eggs into his mouth and nodded. "Mm-hm."

"Good. We don't have to... discuss it... I just wondered... I'll be upstairs until it's time to leave. Be ready and waiting for me by the fireplace in my office, won't you?" At that, Mr. Crouch stood and promptly left the room, leaving Percy alone, Winky having long since gone off to do other things. Percy clenched the muscles of his bottom as though testing, wincing a bit at the lingering soreness. He was glad he was alone, if only because he could now stand up without anyone seeing the hard-on he was now sporting.

Having a wank in his boss's shower seemed completely unprofessional, but considering what else had taken place in the house last night... Also, Percy figured it would be okay compared to the alternative, which was striding into work alongside his boss with a big, distracting stiffy concealed beneath his robes.

He let the hot water rain down on him as he shut his eyes and stroked himself, his hand falling right into a rhythm it knew very well. He stood with his face lowered, water dripping from his chin and his nose and his parted lips and across his eyelids. He felt like he was being watched, even here in the shower. Maybe he was, maybe Barty was under his cloak again and had followed Percy in. He wanted to open his eyes, if only to check that there wasn't a Barty-shaped silhouette just outside the shower curtain. He didn't. He kept them shut, telling himself he was being crazy. He rubbed himself faster.

He thought about himself pinned, face-down, to the bed, legs spread, arse in the air, Barty behind and above him, pushing inside him, forcing him to take it. Barty with his leering smile, eyeing Percy like some perverted kid in a candy store, ready to devour everything he could. Barty with that knowing and jaded gaze, looking right through Percy, seeing everything, seeing way too much...

Percy's flat belly rose and fell quickly and erratically as his climax came up and out of him like a living thing trying to escape. He opened his eyes and watched his own come shoot out in long, thin strands, landing on the shower curtain and in the water swirling at his feet. And he could just see it, just off in his periphery, Barty standing outside the tub, silhouetted against the white shower curtain, he could see that head of his, with its wild mop of hair, nodding approvingly, he could see the shadow of Barty's arm bending at the elbow as it brought the hand to Barty's crotch to have a feel.

Percy was alone, of course. He finally looked up as the last of his orgasm died away. There was no one standing in the bathroom with him.

Ashamed of himself for indulging like that in his boss's bathroom, he quickly finished his shower, laid a few thorough cleaning spells on the tub and the shower curtain, and then hurried into the guest room where a set of clean work clothes and robes had indeed been set out for him. He dressed and went straight downstairs to wait for Mr. Crouch in his office. The office was empty. He went and stood by the fireplace.

"All clean now?" asked a voice from the shadows. Percy jumped, spun around and looked across the room. He finally noticed Barty's eyes peering at him from a dark little corner between a bookshelf and a wall.

"I-I'm sorry?"

Barty stepped out into the light and approached. He'd changed into day clothes, his customary jeans and faded t-shirt. "Manage to get the smell of me off you?"

"Well, I certainly hope so," Percy said haughtily, and he turned away and tried to ignore his pounding heart.

"Bet you haven't. Bet you still wreak of me." Barty stepped up behind Percy, pressed the full length of his body against him, his crotch against Percy's arse. He took hold of Percy's waist and held him steady while he gently rocked his hips from side to side, rubbing against him.

"Yeah, there it is," Barty murmured against Percy's neck. "Can still smell my spunk all over you."

Percy shut his eyes and tried to will his cock to stay still.

"I'm inside you now, Pretty Boy. Never leaving. Setting up shop..." Barty moved a hand around to Percy's front, parted his robes, slipped the hand inside and cupped his now bulging groin. "… right here. 'S all mine now, innit? All this belongs to me. And as this is my property now, I think I ought to have a say in the landscaping, don't you think?"

Percy swallowed hard. "Your father will be down any moment now."

Barty ignored him and slipped his hand right into Percy's trousers, into his pants. He began petting Percy's pubic hair. "You can keep some of this. Just trim it up a bit. But this..." Barty moved his hand down to Percy's balls, cupped and massaged them. "I want these smooth for next time. Get everything in behind them too."

"You can't be serious," Percy protested through clenched teeth.

"Course I'm serious." Barty moved to Percy's side and forced his hand down further, slipping it between Percy's legs and forcing Percy to widen his stance.

"The deal was sex. At _night_ , after I'm finished with work. There was nothing said about you molesting me any time you damn well choose."

"Well, then you didn't read the fine print, did ya?"

"Ungh..." Percy grunted as Barty began massaging his perineum.

"You make good and sure you get things cleaned up down there before we see each other again. Okay? Look at me."

Percy turned his face and looked at Barty. Barty's eyes were all hot and smouldering.

"Okay?" Barty repeated.

Percy nodded, his own eyes growing a bit dazed as Barty continued to massage his most intimate area.

"You want to do that for me, don't you?" Barty whispered, sounding as though he already knew the answer.

Percy looked away. Why wasn't he yanking this man's hand out of his clothes? Why could he not stop thinking about being woken at three in the morning to be mercilessly fucked with a hand wrapped around his throat? "Yes," he reluctantly admitted.

"Hard for you to admit that, isn't it?" Barty used his free hand to turn Percy's face back toward his. "But the fact that you're willing to admit it at all tells me you're loosening up a bit. That's good, Percy. That's very, very good." Barty smiled softly at him and nodded his approval.

Percy found himself nodding too, found himself drawn into orbit around Barty, into his magnetic pull. Next thing he knew they were kissing and Percy was turning to face him. He cupped Barty's face and slipped his tongue deep inside Barty's mouth.

"I can't do this now," Percy whispered urgently. "We have to stop. Your father –" But Barty only kissed him harder, effectively shutting him up.

 _"Ahem,"_ came a gentle throat-clearing from the doorway. Percy jumped, tried to pull away from Barty, but Barty's hand remained lodged down inside his trousers and Barty didn't looked terribly fussed about it. Quite the contrary, he stared lustily at Percy, lips wet from their kiss, and he kept right on fondling him.

"Stop it!" Percy hissed, yanking Barty's hand out and pushing him away. Percy straightened his robes and glared at Barty, but Barty only smiled lazily at him and adjusted his bulging crotch. He then glanced at his father, who Percy didn't dare look at.

"Sorry, Dad," said Barty with a grin. "Got a bit carried away there."

Percy heard Mr. Crouch exhale, saw him step out of the doorway and put his back to the open door. "Out, Barty."

"Fine. Sorry, old man." Barty looked at Percy again, but Percy kept his eyes down. Barty then stepped away and headed for the door. Percy hazarded a glance at his back as he departed. It was as if Barty could feel Percy's eyes on him, because he glanced back as he exited, brought his hand to his face and very deliberately smelled his fingers. Percy's groin tugged at him and he lowered his gaze again.

"And for the love of Merlin, put your cloak back on!" Mr. Crouch called after Barty. "Winky! Where are you? See to him, will you, please?" With much grumbling under his breath, Mr. Crouch approached the fireplace and stood next to Percy. "Ready?" he asked as though nothing strange had happened. He reached out to take a handful of Floo Powder from the ornate little pewter pot sitting on the mantle.

"Mr. Crouch, sir, I –" Percy began, but he was interrupted.

"Let's just get to work, yes? Go on, take some."

"Right, sir." Percy reached out and took some Floo Powder as well, but he just couldn't keep his mouth shut. "I didn't initiate. He ambushed me, I was completely caught off-guard –"

"Please." Mr. Crouch held up his free hand to silence Percy. "It's probably best we don't discuss it. Besides... I suppose I should be relieved that you're doing it at least partly because you enjoy it."

"I don't. I don't enjoy it, it's strictly business."

"Go _on_ , Weatherby, we'll be late," said Mr. Crouch with an exasperated sigh. Percy reluctantly let the subject drop and stepped into the fireplace.

 

* * *

At the end of the business day at the Ministry that evening, Percy went home to The Burrow. After the hasty Floo conversation with his mother the previous evening, and after the twins had spotted Winky in the house, he knew he had to go and do some serious damage control.

"But _why_ must you stay overnight?" Molly demanded as everyone began loading up their plates with meat and vegetables and passing large dishes of food around the table. It was the first family dinner Percy had attended in quite a while. He felt even more out of place than usual. He couldn't possibly look different than he had before he'd had sex, but he certainly felt different. He wondered if it showed.

"I told you, it's a secret. Top secret stuff. Dad knows all about it," Percy added hastily, trying to deflect some of the blame. "Isn't that right, Dad?"

"What?" Arthur looked up at Percy and Molly innocently. "I know what? What do I know?"

"About the thing. The top secret thing that my department and Ludo Bagman's department are working on. You know. For the coming school year. The thing."

"Nah, he's lying," George said quietly to Fred. "Look at how pink he is."

"I am not lying. Dad, please, tell them."

"Well... I can't really say, you know that."

"So, there _is_ something?" asked Fred.

"I thought he was lying when he brought it up the other night," said Ginny, who was sitting to Percy's left and eyeing him suspiciously. Percy fidgeted under her gaze and tried to change the subject.

"When are Bill and Charlie getting here? Have they set dates yet?"

"Oh, not until later on in the summer," said Molly as she set a large dish of carrots back down in the middle of the table.

"So, Charlie's still in Romania, then?"

"Yes, of course. Where else would he be?"

"Just making sure."

"So, this top secret business is the reason you're sleeping at Crouch's?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Bah!" said Fred, waving a hand at Percy. "Perce and Old Crouchy are probably just finalising their wedding plans. Nothing for us to be concerned with."

"Oh, ha, ha," said Percy irritably. His gaze lingered on the twins for a moment. No one had inquired about Winky, so he guessed that they hadn't mentioned her to anyone. Meanwhile, Ginny was still examining Percy as she ate.

"Is this about the World Cup?" asked Ginny. "Because we already know about that."

"No, it isn't about the World Cup, and will you _please_ stop staring at me?"

"Sorry. It's just..." She gestured at her own neck. Percy frowned at her, but quickly realised what she meant. There was something on his neck. A mark that hadn't been there before. Something Barty had left behind. Percy had loosened his collar before dinner, perhaps it had been hidden before. He adjusted his collar and glanced surreptitiously around the table to see if anyone else had noticed.

"At any rate," he went on, "it's probably better that I stay there anyway. I can barely think with you lot thundering around the house like elephants and I've got a lot of work to do."

"This isn't about the broom bristles, is it?" asked Fred as he chewed. "Because we didn't care about that the first time you mentioned it."

"No, it isn't."

"Cauldron bottoms?" asked Fred.

"No."

"Wand thickness?" asked George.

"No!"

"Leave your brother alone, you two," Molly sighed. "Percy, we know you're very busy. After dinner you can go straight upstairs and get to work. The rest of us will take care of the clean up."

"Are you joking?" Ron asked angrily. "Why does he get off? Just 'cause he keeps going on and on about how busy he is?"

"Percy has important things to do," Molly argued.

"Or so he says," muttered George.

"It's all right," said Percy. "I can help clean up. I don't have to be back at Mr. Crouch's for a couple of hours."

Molly stopped and stared at him. "You're going back tonight?"

"Yes, of course."

"But... I thought you'd be staying here tonight."

"I can't, Mum. I told you we're very busy and being here just isn't practical for me right now."

"Oh, now look what you've done," Fred said, watching Molly. "You've upset her. And then you're just going to flounce off into the night, back to your precious Crouch."

" _Mister_ Crouch," corrected Arthur. "That goes for all of you."

"Whatever," said George. "Point is he's upset her and then he's going to run off and leave us alone with her. Well, that's nice."

"Yeah, real considerate."

"Boys..." Arthur said in a warning tone.

"Bet he hasn't got anything to do," muttered Fred. He then narrowed his eyes and asked, "Hey, have we heard from Clearwater lately?"

"Yeah, how do we know he isn't sneaking off to be with her?" asked George.

"Oh, for the love of..." Percy grumbled, putting his fork down. "I think I'm done here." He pushed away from the table and stood. Molly stared at him, wide-eyed and hurt.

"But you've barely eaten anything at all."

"I'm fine, I'm not hungry. I have a few things to do before I leave again. I'll say goodbye before I go, I promise. Oh, er... may I use the fireplace in your bedroom to make a private call?"

"Yes, of course. You _won't_ be disturbed," she said, pointedly looking at the twins. Fred grinned up at Percy.

"Don't listen to her. She doesn't know what she's on about."

Molly and the twins kept on bickering as Percy walked away. He went up to his room and began packing a bag and he wondered if he could make up some excuse to get out of the house a little sooner. He wondered how many changes of clothes he should bring. How long should he stay away? After that rather rude reminder of how obnoxious his brothers could be, he was almost tempted to pack his entire closet.

Percy went upstairs to the fourth floor. He slipped into the master bedroom, shut and locked the door and went straight for the fireplace.

When Charlie's face appeared, it was grinning hugely. "Hey, Perce! This is unexpected."

"Hello, Charlie. How have you been?"

"Excellent! How's the Ministry treating you?"

"Fine. Great. It's all really great. Listen, Charlie, I've got to ask you something. Something, er... personal."

Charlie's eyebrows went up. "What kind of personal?"

Percy could scarcely believe what he was about to ask. "It's about... hair removal."

A grin slowly spread across Charlie's face. "I beg your pardon?"

"Remember that spell you showed me? That's safe to use on areas besides the face, right?"

Charlie's grin broadened.

"Don't!" Percy warned, pointing a finger at him. "Just don't. Just answer the question."

"Okay, okay, sorry. Yeah, you can use it on, er, other places. Why?"

"Never you mind why. I was under the impression that Bill had a little mishap when he tried it on a sensitive spot."

"Oh, yeah. Well, Bill's a git, isn't he? He got a bit impatient and accidentally removed a couple of things he shouldn't have."

"But he was okay, though, right?"

"Yeah, he was fine. Got 'em back on all right. His mistake was in his pronunciation. Put the emphasis on the third syllable, rather than the second."

"I see."

"Perce, you know, you can't just call up out of the blue, ask a question like _that_ and then not tell me what's up. No fair, little brother."

Percy supposed if he was going to tell slightly more accurate half-truths to anyone, it would be to Charlie. "You have to swear not to tell anyone else."

"Course I swear. You could always trust me, couldn't you?"

"Yes, I suppose." Percy sighed and then blurted out, "I've finally gone and had sex."

Charlie's mouth dropped open and he looked positively delighted. "Really? Congratulations, Perce!"

Percy rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smile. "Oh, stop it."

"Who was it? Not –"

"No, not Penelope. We broke up ages ago. Besides, you know I'm... I'm..."

"Light in the loafers."

"Must you put it like that?"

"Sorry," Charlie chuckled. "So, who was it? Anyone I know?"

"No. And I can't tell you who, so please don't ask."

"Ahh, secret love affair," said Charlie with a huge grin, rubbing his hands together. "How intriguing."

"Charlie, I'm serious. I can't tell you who."

"How long have you been seeing him?"

"About eight bloody seconds," Percy sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Percy!" Charlie gasped. "You? Jumping into bed with someone you barely know?"

"It's just sex," said Percy matter-of-factly. "It wasn't meant to be anything but that, so there was no point getting to know him better. Besides, I was just exaggerating; I've known him... a few days, at least."

"Who are you really?" asked Charlie. "What've you done with Percy?"

"Very funny."

"You've changed a _lot_." Charlie glanced off to the side at something Percy couldn't see. "How long've I been gone, then?"

Percy guessed it was a calendar Charlie was squinting at. "Stop it, will you?"

"This guy's on the up-and-up, isn't he?" Charlie asked seriously.

"It doesn't matter."

"Yeah, it does. I don't want some slimy git pawing at my kid brother."

"Well, you're too late, he already has."

"And now you want to remove your pubic hair for him?"

"Maybe."

"Perce, seriously, is he an okay bloke? Did he ask you to shave for him?"

"No," said Percy, averting his eyes. "No, it was my idea."

"Oh, come on. This is me you're talking to. I know you, and this little plan doesn't have your name written anywhere on it."

"Yeah, well..."

"How old is this guy anyway?"

Percy hesitated. "Around my age," he muttered.

"Really?"

"Well, he _was_ around my age... in 1980."

"Percy!"

"Hey, you always said I needed someone older."

"Yeah, that was back when I thought we were talking about women! Men are quite another story! Are you telling me some pervy old sod is living out his sick little-boy fantasies with you?"

"No! Calm down, he's only thirty-something. And I'm hardly a little boy, Charlie. And... he doesn't want _all_ the hair removed," Percy added under his breath.

Charlie was fuming now, his jaw muscles twitching. He began to pace.

"Charlie, I can take care of myself."

"Who is this guy? Why can't you tell me who he is?"

"Why, so you can go looking for him just to prove how big and manly you are? I think not."

"If he's so nice, why are you keeping him a secret?"

"Because, as I said, it's only sex. It doesn't mean anything, so there's no reason to bring him home to meet the family, is there? Honestly, I'm fine. There's nothing untoward going on. I'm just... having a little fun."

Charlie shook his head. "That doesn't sound like you."

"No," Percy admitted with a sigh. "But perhaps I've changed, perhaps there are a lot of things you don't know about me. Look, I've got to go. Emphasise the third syllable, you said?"

"No, the second."

"Good, thanks. I'll see you when you come down later on this summer."

"Percy, you'd tell me if something wasn't right, wouldn't you?" Charlie quickly asked before Percy could pull his head out of the fire.

Percy stared into his older brother's eyes. He wanted to tell him everything. He wanted to tell him what his boss had done, and what Barty Jr. had done, and how, despite everything, Percy was inexplicably drawn to Barty. Maybe Charlie could shed some light on why, help Percy work it all out.

"Of course I'd tell you," Percy said. "I can assure you that if something was wrong, it would be you I'd tell."

Charlie seemed to relax a bit. "Well, okay. I guess I have to take your word."

"Thank you. I appreciate your trust."

Charlie nodded. "Love you, little brother. Be careful."

Percy glanced down for a moment, guilt and longing swelling in his chest. "I love you too. I have to go."

Percy pulled his head out of the fire and the green flames died away. He knelt there for a while staring into the empty fireplace, part of him wishing Charlie would reappear. He wished they could have a long talk. About anything. He wished Charlie hadn't gone away to Romania. He wished so many things had gone differently. If Charlie had somehow reappeared in that moment, Percy didn't think he'd be able to stop himself blurting out everything that had been happening.

When he opened his parents' door to leave, he was greeted by two identical smiles.

"It's none of your business," he said immediately, walking past them and heading for the stairs. The twins followed.

"You've been acting weird lately," said Fred.

"Yeah, and not the normal easy-to-mock weird," said George. "More like actually-might-be-pretty-interesting weird."

"And when _you're_ interesting, we know something's up."

"Yeah, so what is it?"

"Dinner can't be over yet," said Percy. "How did you get away so soon?"

"Mum started questioning Dad about the black smudges on his pants," said Fred. "She was completely distracted, so we slipped away."

"What's up with the house elf?" asked George.

Percy stopped dead on the second floor landing, spun to face them and whispered, "You didn't tell anyone about her, did you?"

"What, and ruin an opportunity to torture you?" said Fred. "I think not."

"We're not stupid, Perce. We tell anyone else about it, we lose any potential power over you we might've gained. Come on, you know us better than that."

Percy relaxed. "Well, that was Winky, Mr. Crouch's house elf. She came here to fetch some clean clothes for me as I was too busy to do so myself. Don't tell anyone. The last thing I need is more questions. Now, if you'll excuse me." Percy turned and headed for his room.

"How long will you be gone?" Fred called after him.

"I don't know," Percy called back from inside his room. He went to the bag he'd started packing and began placing more things inside it.

"You look different," said George. Percy looked up at the door and saw the twins standing there watching him.

"I do?"

The twins nodded. "Yeah," said Fred.

"Different, like... good?"

"No. Different, like weird. What's ol' Crouchy got you doing over there, anyway?"

"Nothing," Percy muttered and looked away again. "Get lost. I've got to pack."

"Right. Don't want to be late for your date with Crouch," said George.

"You know if the two of you are shacking up, you can tell us," said Fred.

"Yeah, we won't tattle."

"Go _away_ ," Percy demanded.

The twins both laughed as they departed, leaving Percy on a gentle simmer. Then he heard one of them say, "Now, there's someone who could use a good shag," and his gentle simmer slowly began to boil.

"Think they know me so well," he muttered. He went to the door, shut and locked it, then headed toward his dresser and began unfastening his trousers. He hopped out of them and his underwear and positioned himself before his mirror. His shirt was in the way, so he removed that as well. He stood there naked, but for his socks, and finally noticed the little mark on the left side of his neck that Ginny had been frowning at during dinner. Definitely something Barty had left behind. Percy ran his fingers over the reddish bruise. Barty had marked him. Percy wondered if he'd done it deliberately. He had referred to Percy's nether region as his property, after all. Percy's belly tingled pleasantly at the memory.

He picked his wand up off the dresser. He wished he had a hand mirror. With a shrug he raised a leg and rested his foot on the dresser's edge, exposing the area underneath him. He illuminated his wand tip and pointed it between his legs. With his free hand he held his cock and balls out of the way.

 _"Depillius,"_ he whispered. There was a slight tingling and a second later all the little ginger hairs behind his balls disappeared. He touched the area with his fingertips. It was perfectly smooth.

He put his leg down and felt his face begin to heat up with a soft blush as he thought about Barty discovering his newly smooth parts. He started to get hard.

 _They think they know me so well,_ Percy thought as he examined himself in the mirror. His plain, gangly body had had another man inside it last night, had been an object of desire last night. He smiled sheepishly at himself. He still wasn't sure what Barty saw in him. Then again, he wasn't sure what he saw in Barty.

Percy finished removing the hair that Barty had told him to, and then some. He spent a few minutes feeling his own smooth skin, marvelling at the strange new sensation, then he got dressed, finished packing and went downstairs to say goodbye to his family. He refused to answer any more questions. This was for work. Being at home was too distracting. It was something he had to do. That was all there was to it.

"It does seem a little unprofessional, staying at your boss's home," said Ron as Percy was preparing to leave.

"What would you know about it?"

Ron frowned at him. "I know things. I know people don't generally have sleepovers with their bosses."

"Well, I'm more than just his employee. I'm his Personal Assistant," Percy said proudly. "He needs me by his side, especially now."

"Because of the big top secret thing?"

"Yes. And other things that are none of your business. Now." Percy slung his overnight bag over his shoulder, reached out and gripped Ron's arm. "Stay out of trouble while I'm gone. Look after your sister. Mind Mum and Dad. And..." Percy glanced warily at the twins, who were standing a little ways off talking quietly with Ginny. "Just... don't eat anything they give you."

"We'll get on fine without you, Perce," Ron said irritably, shrugging off Percy's hand. "We have been all this time."

"Yeah," Percy said quietly. "That's what I figured. Goodbye, Ron. Like I told Mum, I'll be back in a few days, I expect, maybe even tomorrow if I have some time to drop by."

"Oh, _if_ you have the time, Mr. Important."

Percy had to smile and shake his head. "I'll talk to you later. Bye, everyone. I'll probably run into you at work, Dad."

"Right," said Arthur. "Oh, by the way, ask Mr. Crouch if he's seen Bertha Jorkins anywhere, will you? She's gone missing, apparently. No one knows where she is, and the last time anyone saw her, she was babbling something about the Crouches."

"Oh," Percy said with a frown. He promised he'd ask and then took the Floo back to the Crouch house.

 

* * *

Percy completely forgot to ask Mr. Crouch about Bertha Jorkins. His mind was elsewhere as he completed his work that evening. Each time he heard a creak or a squeak or a groan from the house around him, his body threatened to betray what his mind was really focused on. He kept his robes on that evening.

"Weatherby."

"Hm?" Percy looked up and found Mr. Crouch watching him from his desk. "Yes, sir?"

Mr. Crouch frowned at him. "Perhaps we should call it a night."

"What? Why? Is something wrong?"

"You're clearly distracted," said Mr. Crouch, turning away and shuffling papers on his desk.

Percy blushed. "I am not."

Mr. Crouch turned back to him and pointed at the large chart Percy had been hunched over. "You've got a Portkey from Rome going straight to Fiji. Wasn't aware we were holding the World Cup in the South Pacific this year."

Percy looked down at his chart. "Oh. Well, that's an easy enough fix. Here, I'll just –" Percy stopped talking when Mr. Crouch sighed heavily.

"Sir?"

"Is this the trade-off? Either I have a son who isn't constantly trying to escape _or_ I have a proper assistant?"

"I... What?"

"If I'd known you were going to be this distracted by him..." Mr. Crouch trailed off and shook his head.

"I am not distracted. I'm just tired, that's all. And you're right, a simple mistake like that," Percy pointed at his misdirected Portkey route, "is unforgivable, unprofessional and just plain careless."

"We'll pick this up tomorrow."

"No, sir, really, this is the only mistake I've made this evening and it will only take a moment to fix –"

"No, you're right. You're probably over-tired as well as preoccupied. Go on. It's probably time I got some rest as well."

Percy wanted to protest, but then he heard footsteps moving down the upstairs hall above them and then coming down the stairs to the first floor. They paused somewhere outside the office and then continued on their way to the basement.

"Um..." Percy began quietly, staring at the office door. "It is getting late, I suppose."

"Indeed."

Percy stood and looked at Mr. Crouch, whose forehead was in his hand, fingers massaging his temples. "If you're sure there isn't anything else I can do tonight."

"I'm sure. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sir." Percy felt very strange, indeed. It was obvious what he was leaving to go and do. He just hoped he didn't seem too eager. Barty was only a secondary duty, after all.

"You know, I can't help but notice that you didn't bother to suggest that you not continue on as my son's lover."

Percy stopped at the door, hand on the handle. He looked back at Mr. Crouch uncertainly. "Sir?"

"Well, if one duty is interfering with another, more important, duty, one might suggest dropping the less important one, depending on what it is."

"Well, perhaps, but... you need me to do this. Don't you?"

"It has been awfully quiet around here since yesterday, I must admit. No trouble, no escape attempts. I haven't even had to try to Imperius him again. It's been quite nice, really. Because he knows that if he's good, he gets you." Mr. Crouch looked up at Percy. "Whatever you're doing, you're very good at it."

Percy had to make an effort not to smile. "Thank you, sir." _How completely absurd is this conversation?_ he thought. "Well, sir, I thought since you do need me to do this, offering to _stop_ doing it wouldn't have made much sense."

Mr. Crouch chuckled softly. "Weatherby, please. Quitting Barty never even entered your mind."

This was true. Percy stayed quiet.

"Just be careful. You taking care of Barty for me is still business, though I'm sure it doesn't feel that way to you. Feelings could get in the way of things, and that's never good for business. You know that."

Percy blinked at him. "You think my feelings are going to get in the way? Well, that's ridiculous!"

"Is it?"

"I wasn't aware I had feelings for him," Percy said loftily, hoisting his nose into the air.

"You like him. For some odd reason."

Percy's mouth dropped open and his brow furrowed deeply. "I beg your pardon? He is a Death Eater, and a bit of a perverted creep, if you ask me. No offence, sir."

Mr. Crouch held up a hand. "None taken."

" _I_ could never develop feelings for someone like that."

"You're seventeen. You don't have a clue what you're capable of yet."

Percy ground his teeth together. "If you think my judgement is so impaired, why don't you just fire me. From Barty, I mean. Don't let me go down there if you're worried."

"I don't know that you're judgement's impaired. I just have a feeling you might be susceptible to Barty's special brand of charm and I'm simply advising you to be careful. And in any case, I need you down there. There's nothing else for it." Mr. Crouch shook his head. "Things have gotten far too out of hand already."

"Sir?"

"Nothing. Just go on down, I'm sure Barty's growing impatient. And please do remember to Imperturb the basement door this time. I don't want to have to do it myself again."

Percy gulped and started blushing again. "Yes, sir. Goodnight, sir." Percy quickly spun around and left the room, his cheeks and ears pink-hot with embarrassment. He went straight to the basement, shut the door behind him and promptly Imperturbed it before trotting down the remaining steps.

"I think your father heard us last night," he said as he strode toward the unmade bed where Barty was currently lounging on his back, hands clasped behind his head.

"Yeah, he probably did," Barty said with a yawn. He sat up, stood, and strolled lazily around the bed toward Percy.

"And that doesn't bother you?" asked Percy as he removed his robes. "No, of course it doesn't bother you. Never mind, I forgot who I was talking to."

"Ooh, someone's a cheeky little bitch tonight." Barty stepped up to him, looking him up and down. He slipped an arm around Percy's waist and pulled him close. "Did you do as I asked?"

Percy felt instantly sexual under this man's gaze, in his arms. It was very strange for him. "Yes," he said breathlessly, staring down into Barty's eyes.

"Good boy."

Everything seemed to speed up and increase; Percy's heart and his breaths quickened, his temperature rose, his skin tingled with arousal, he felt his nipples harden, his cock stiffen. He felt out of control and almost drunk. Barty smiled softly up at him.

"It confuses you, doesn't it?" he whispered. "What I make you feel. You hate that I've got you pegged so accurately, but it also excites you, doesn't it? The prospect of giving up control is intriguing and terrifying to you."

Percy had to lower his gaze. Barty was right; Percy both hated and loved that Barty could see him so clearly. He wondered how Barty knew so much about him when no one else seemed to, not even his own family.

He met Barty's eyes again. "No one else knows me," he whispered.

"Maybe you hide too much. The difference here is that I won't let you hide. You _can't_ hide from me. No one else has ever done that, forced you out of yourself the way I do. No one else ever cared to. They've already written you off, decided what you are." Barty brushed his lips against Percy's and smiled. "They have no idea, do they?"

Percy's heart thumped in his ears. "No," he replied. "They have no idea." He draped his long arms about Barty's shoulders and pressed his body into his. He put his fingers in Barty's hair, played with it, gingerly tested the strange waters of being someone's lover. He let a hand travel down from Barty's head to his face, caressed his cheek. To his delight, Barty smiled softly at him and leaned into his touch. When Percy leaned in and gently kissed Barty's mouth, Barty kissed back.

"Sweet, shy thing," Barty whispered against his mouth. "Are you testing? Exploring?"

"Yes," Percy whispered back.

Barty looked into his eyes again. "This is real. I'm really here. And you're really mine." Barty released Percy's waist and took hold of both his hands. He placed them on his own body, one on his chest, over his heart, and the other he made cup his groin. "See? You can touch me anywhere you like. That's weird for you, isn't it? Having someone who's just for you? You've never had that before, have you?"

Percy shook his head. He thought of Penelope, how chaste their relationship had been. Well, that had mostly been his own fault. "No," he replied.

"Well, you have it now," Barty said, taking Percy's hands off himself and just holding onto them. "Now, take your clothes off for me. Show me what you've done." He began to step away from Percy, but Percy didn't let him go just yet. He pulled Barty back and kissed him hard, as though he was trying to drive home a point. _I'm yours,_ he thought. _I'm all yours._ When the kiss broke, Percy slowly opened his eyes and looked at Barty with a shy little smile.

"See that?" whispered Barty. "See how good it feels when you give into what you really are? Now then, let's see what you've done for me." Barty bestowed one last little kiss on Percy's mouth, and then pulled away, stepped back and began to undress while watching him.

Percy watched him too as he began taking off his clothes. He started with his shirt and tie, and although he hadn't been particularly hairy to begin with, the hair missing from his arms and armpits didn't go unnoticed.

Barty stopped undressing and stared. "What's this?" he asked with a smile.

"I thought I'd do something special for you," said Percy as casually as he could. He took off his socks next, and then his trousers, revealing perfectly smooth legs.

"Well, well, well. I guess you've embraced the real you a lot more thoroughly than I'd anticipated."

"I guess so." Percy finally dropped his underwear, revealing his neatly trimmed patch of ginger pubic hair.

Barty, who'd so far only managed to remove his shirt, tossed the shirt aside and stepped up to Percy again, hands immediately going to feel his body, rub up and down his torso, around to his back, down onto his arse where they cupped and squeezed the silky smooth globes.

"Well, fuck me," he whispered. "I'm impressed."

"Do you like it?" asked Percy, wrapping around him again. "I wasn't sure if I'd gone too far."

"No, you went just far enough. Get on the bed. On all fours."

Percy moved away and crawled onto the bed. He got on his hands and knees and looked up expectantly at Barty.

"Turn your back to me and spread your knees. That's it. Arch your back."

Percy obeyed, and when he spread his knees and arched his back, he felt as though his bottom was sticking right up in the air, like he was presenting. That's exactly what he was doing, he thought. He looked over his shoulder at Barty and awaited further instructions.

"You have no idea how pretty you look," Barty whispered, his hand slipping down into his jeans to play with himself. He jerked his head at the armoire. "Have a look. Turn your arse to the mirror and look at yourself."

Percy did as he was told, though he had his doubts about wanting to see himself in this position. He turned his back to the armoire's mirrored doors, hesitated, and then looked back over his shoulder.

There he was, naked and completely smooth, his creamy thighs parted, his balls hanging between them, his hard cock pointing away from the mirror, his little pink pucker perfectly displayed. He tensed his muscles and watched the hole contract a bit.

"See?" said Barty, coming and sitting next to him. "See how sexy you are?" Barty watched in the mirror as his own hand reached out and began feeling Percy back there, his palm sliding up and down against the smooth perineum and cupping his balls, his thumb extending upward to rub at his hole. Percy let out a soft sigh and pushed back against Barty's fondling, still watching in the mirror until Barty brought his face down to Percy's, and Percy finally looked around at him.

"You're so fucking sexy," Barty whispered, and then he brought their lips together.

Every molecule of Percy's body was screaming 'yes' as he kissed Barty deeply, tongue probing, licking inside the man's mouth, tasting him. Mad thoughts went swirling through Percy's head. _This is where I belong,_ he thought.

Barty finally released his mouth and caressed his cheek as he moved away from Percy, giving Percy's backside a little pat as he got up. He stood by the bed, unfastened his jeans and took out his cock.

"Come suck me," Barty whispered.

Percy crawled over to him, eyes on his Barty's prick.

"Go on. Do as you like."

Percy licked his lips. He maintained his position – knees spread, back arched – as he extended his tongue and began licking the head of Barty's cock.

"That's it. That's my good boy." Barty placed a hand on the back of Percy's head, cradled it as Percy opened his mouth, closed his eyes, and took Barty's length inside. Percy's own cock twitched in response.

 _I belong right here with you,_ he thought again, and this time he could swear he heard Barty reply "I know" in his head.

This time, the sex was completely consensual. Percy laid on his back and spread his legs and let Barty have him. Barty let him keep his glasses on, and Percy watched the two of them in the armoire's mirrors. He examined the way their bodies connected, the way Barty's hips pushed against him, the way Barty's muscles tensed as he drew closer to climax, the way their bodies would sometimes move in unison. He was fascinated by the way he, Percy, had completely let go; Barty pinned both his hands to the mattress and fucked him with everything he had, and Percy loved it, the complete lack of control, being held down and taken. He could scarcely believe it was himself he was watching in the mirror.

"Want my come, sweetheart?" Barty whispered in Percy's ear.

Percy wrapped his arms around Barty, hands on Barty's sweaty back, and moaned, "Give it to me."

"Your body craves it now, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Percy breathed against Barty's neck. "I crave you."

"I know you do. Here it is, baby. Here it comes." Barty's body shuddered in Percy's arms and Percy once again felt the wonderful sensation of Barty's liquid spurting into him.

Percy was not, by nature, an emotional person. Passionate, yes, but he found blatant displays of emotion annoying and confusing, especially from himself. So, when the the unfamiliar feeling began swelling in his chest and stinging his eyes, he had no idea what it was. He clung to Barty even more and squeezed his eyes shut.

Barty finally relaxed on top of him, panting hard and whispering curse words. "Fuck me, that was good."

Percy only sniffled.

Barty raised his head and looked down at him. He chuckled softly. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Percy grumbled and looked away. He took off his glasses and wiped at his eyes.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No."

With another little chuckle, Barty kissed Percy's cheek and whispered, "Sometimes you feel so much. They don't know that either, do they?"

Percy still didn't meet Barty's eyes. "It's nothing."

"Mm," Barty grunted sceptically. He kissed Percy's mouth and then carefully withdrew and slid off of him. He turned his back on Percy and pulled him by the arm to get them into a spooning position. Barty nestled back against him and whispered, "I trust you, you know."

"You do?"

"Yes. Do you trust me?"

Percy hesitated. "I don't know. You were... you _are_..."

"A Death Eater. Yeah. Haven't really been that for some time now, though."

"But then why do you keep trying to escape?"

"Wouldn't you?"

Percy supposed he had a point. "You're not trying to rejoin You-Know-Who's followers?"

Barty hesitated. "I don't know where I'm trying to escape to. Away from here is the main thing. Well, it _was_ the main thing." Barty twisted around in Percy's arms and looked back at him. "'Til now, of course."

Percy heart seemed to skip a beat. "I should probably mention that I am in agreement with what your father did to you. Not this, not breaking you out of Azkaban and keeping you here, but putting you in Azkaban in the first place."

Barty nodded. "I figured as much."

"I think he did the right thing under the circumstances."

Barty searched his eyes. "You'd do that to your own son."

"I don't know."

"I suppose I can understand why you might. Your family... I know all about your family. Mudblood lovers. That's what people call you lot behind your backs."

"Who calls us that?"

"The ones who hide. Like cowards. They live and work among you and put on whatever faces they think they're supposed to. Like they can just erase the Dark Lord from their histories."

Percy thought he detected a hint of disgust in Barty's voice. He ignored it. "My family doesn't discriminate based on blood status. That's how they raised me and I'll never apologise for that or change my beliefs for anyone."

"I know. I'm okay with that. Are you okay with what I was?"

Percy hesitated. "I suppose I can be. We all make mistakes."

Barty looked him in the eye. "You can forgive it all? Even what I helped do to the Longbottoms?"

"It's in the past, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Well, then... leave it there."

Barty seemed to relax even more in Percy's arms and he turned away again. "I overheard you and Father talking this morning. About the Death Eater incident with the Muggles in London. Did you have a look at the newspaper article? Do you know who was involved?"

"No big names. There was a Wilson, a Murphy, an Ellis... and a Morgan, I think."

"Hmph."

Percy stared at the back of Barty's head for a moment in silence as though waiting for more of a response. When he got none, he asked, "Anybody you know?"

"Perhaps. Can't remember."

"Well," Percy said, cuddling up even more and kissing the back of his neck, "you're well shot of them now anyway."

"Mm."

More silence followed. Percy wondered what was going through Barty's mind. He got the impression there was a lot going on in there that he wasn't being told.

"Have you ever met any?" asked Barty suddenly. "Death Eaters besides me, I mean."

"I'm sure I have."

"No, I mean ones who were openly practising, I guess you'd say."

"Oh, er... well, yes. A long time ago. Though I was too young at the time to fully grasp what they were. I was four. My parents, my two older brothers and my younger twin brothers and I were all playing in our backyard. I don't know how they found us." Percy's brow furrowed. "I don't know how they got through our protections, but there they were, three Death Eaters, come to have a little fun with us."

"What did they do?"

"Oh, not much," Percy said, trying to sound casual. "There were only three of them and they seemed quite young and naïve. At least that's what Dad said when he retold the story. They were inexperienced and in over their heads, so taking control of the situation proved quite simple for Mum and Dad... but not before one of them got hold of me."

"Really?" Barty rolled onto his back so he could look at Percy properly. "What did they do to you?"

"Oh, nothing too horrible, I suppose," Percy sighed. "He – the one that got me – he picked me up and and held me and said 'hello' all friendly, like we were mates or something." Percy frowned again. "He asked my name. Of course I didn't tell him. I didn't speak at all, I didn't even look at him, I was too scared. He said he'd chosen me because I was special. Because I had glasses and my brothers didn't, because I was different, an outsider, just like him. I don't remember half of what he said to me, but I remember that, and it bothered me a lot at the time. I didn't quite understand why these people were bad, but I knew something wasn't right with them. Especially _him_. And even at the age of four I was thoroughly insulted that he'd suggest I was anything like him."

"That's odd, that he'd choose you like that. Think he sensed something about you?"

" _Sensed_ something? He didn't _sense_ anything, certainly not in me."

"Well, I mean, here you are in bed with me, _willingly_ in bed with me, and look what I used to be. Perhaps there's more to you than you think."

Percy looked at Barty with stony seriousness. Barty gazed back calmly.

"Don't say things like that," Percy said.

"Fine. Sorry. I was just saying."

"Well, _don't_ just say. It's not funny and it's not true, whatever it is you're implying."

"Hey, hey, come on, now." Barty rolled to face Percy and took him in his arms. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you. I just meant... you're complex. More complex than most people realise. I don't know what that Death Eater saw in you. But I was a Death Eater and I like you."

Percy's jaw clenched, but he contained his anger, and in fact felt it melting away as Barty began nuzzling his neck. "I suppose you have a point."

"I trust you, Percy," Barty whispered. "Completely. I have since the moment we met, even though you agree with my father's actions. I trust you because you're honest, because I know who you are... and I think I'd like to have you inside me tonight."

Percy gulped and his dick immediately began to wake up. "Really?"

"Yes. If you want."

Percy nodded. "Yes. I'd like that."

Barty smiled. "Good. Pass me the lubricant."

Percy scrambled to find it, twisting around and feeling all over the bed for the little bottle. He found his glasses first and hastily put them back on, not wanting to miss a thing, and he then found the lube. He handed the bottle to Barty, who rolled onto his other side, putting his back to Percy again. He uncorked the bottle, poured some of the liquid onto his fingers, and then brought his hand around and down to his backside where he inserted his fingers into himself. Percy looked down to watch.

"I take it you've done this before," he said, thinking about what Mr. Crouch had said about Barty's teenage antics.

"Yes," Barty replied, glancing back at Percy with a coy little smile.

Barty worked with impressive speed, quickly getting two and then three fingers up inside himself. By the time he removed them, set the bottle aside and pushed his bottom back toward Percy, Percy's heart was racing and his erection was in full bloom.

Barty looked over his shoulder at him. "I'm ready for you," he murmured as he applied more lube to his fingers, reached back and took hold of Percy's hard-on, lubricating it for him.

Percy shimmied closer and guided his cock in between Barty's cheeks. He rubbed the head around until he found the slippery hole and very gently began to nudge inside. Barty put his head down and closed his eyes.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered. "Push all the way in."

Percy was nervous about hurting him, but if Barty said it was okay... Percy slowly pushed all the way in, and Barty emitted a noise of such obvious bliss, that Percy's cock twitched inside him.

Barty's body gripped him and sucked him in as though it had been waiting for him forever. Percy cuddled up behind him, held him around the waist and began to slowly thrust in and out.

"Yeah," Barty whispered. "Faster... fuck me... angle it just a bit... yeah, like that ohfuckyeah..."

Percy pushed up onto his elbow and looked down at Barty; his eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open. He looked as serene as Percy had ever seen him. He could've been completely relaxed if not for his lustful moans and the way his body was undulating in time with Percy's thrusts. He looked almost sweet. How could this man have been a Death Eater? Well, he'd been young when he'd joined. Young people did all kinds of stupid things they regretted later on.

Barty raised his top leg, bending it at the knee, as though opening himself up even more for Percy. Percy took hold of that leg, gripped it around the thigh, and held on as he began to move even faster. He looked toward the mirrors again and saw Barty's completely exposed body with his own prick pumping in and out of him. He watched and experimented, raising his own leg to expose himself too, watching the way his balls moved as he fucked his lover.

 _My lover,_ he thought. That strange, not quite welcome feeling began to flood his chest again. As his pleasure climbed toward its peak, Percy released Barty's leg and lowered his own, wrapped his arms around Barty instead and squeezed him tight against himself.

"I think I..." Percy whispered. "I think that I..."

"Gonna come?"

"No. I mean yes, but... no. I think that I... that I..."

"Say it, Percy," Barty breathed. "You can tell me anything."

"I... think I... might-be-experiencing-the-first-indications-that-I-might-be-falling-in-love-with-you," Percy blurted out very quickly.

"What?" Barty said, almost laughing. "Just say it like a normal person, will you?" Barty reached back and laid his hand on Percy's hip.

"I... I... I'm... falling in love with you," Percy finally said. He couldn't believe he'd said it. It was absurd. "Oh, gods," he groaned, and he started to come.

Barty seemed to match his intensity, pushing back to meet his thrusts, his noises increasing in volume as Percy shot his load inside him. "Say it again. Come on, say it."

"I love you!" Percy cried out. He knew it was mad, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything but this moment, and "love" was the closest, best word he could think of to articulate the strange, almost painfully wonderful feeling he was experiencing.

"That's my boy," whispered Barty.

Percy's whole body quivered and he gently bit down on Barty's shoulder as he started to come down.

"That's my sweet boy," whispered Barty, reaching up and back to caress Percy's face.

"I can't possibly be in love with you," Percy panted. "You know that, right?"

Barty chuckled. "Of course I know that. I'm just glad _you_ know it."

They carefully disconnected, Percy grunting softly as he slipped out of Barty's body, and Barty rolled over again and took Percy in his arms. Percy removed his glasses, set them aside, and snuggled up to him, resting his face against Barty's chest.

"I just felt like saying it," Percy said, feeling the need to explain. "It felt right. Even though it clearly can't be."

Barty stroked his hair. "I know. You can say whatever you like when you're with me, Percy. You can't scare me away."

"Well... I _might_ be falling in love with you."

"Maybe. You know, if you are, that's okay." Barty looked down at him. "Because you're my boy, aren't you?"

 _This is mad,_ Percy thought, but he couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Yes," he said proudly. "Yes, I am."

 

* * *

For the next week, Percy slept at the Crouch house in the basement with Barty Jr. Day in and day out he was Mr. Crouch's personal assistant by day and then Barty's lover at night, and it was easier than Percy had anticipated. He thought he'd be exhausted by week's end, but he felt better than he had in a while. He thought it must be because Mr. Crouch, now having Barty Jr. out of his hair, was more relaxed and was therefore going easier on Percy. Percy even made it home a few nights to have dinner with his family.

"Well, you certainly look well-rested," said his father one night after dinner. He and Percy were lounging in the living room.

"Thank you," Percy replied with a smile.

"Looks like being away from home agrees with you."

"Oh, Dad, that's not true," Percy insisted, though he couldn't stop smiling. He wished he could tell his father why he was so happy. "I've just been getting more sleep, that's all."

"Barty Sr. ease up on your workload a bit?"

"Yes, I think so. He's been a lot happier lately too. I believe it's because I've been doing such a great job and taking a lot of pressure off him."

"Well, that's great, Perce," said Arthur with a soft, genuine smile.

"Thank you, Dad. Er, listen, I have to ask you something. How did you know for sure when you were falling in love?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "In love?"

"I'm not saying I am. I'm just curious."

"But you think you might be," said Arthur, sitting forward in his seat.

Percy shook his head. "No. No, definitely not. No, it's just... infatuation or... hormones or some such."

"Is that why you look like that?"

"Like what?"

"All glowy and relaxed and happy."

Percy looked away sheepishly. "I don't look any different. You all just miss me so much, I look better to you now."

Arthur chuckled. "Well, perhaps. We do miss you. But to answer your question, I knew I loved your mother the moment I saw her. Knew she was the one I was going to marry the moment she looked at me and decided I wasn't worth her time, which was about five seconds after she met me."

Percy frowned. "Well, that can't be right."

"Course it can. Here we are, aren't we? Married and everything."

"Well, yes, but... Dad, I'm not going to marry this person. I just feel things towards them that I've never felt before and I'm not sure how to deal with it."

"What is it you're feeling?"

"It's... it's like I want to be with them all the time and I can't stop thinking about them even when I should be focused on more important things and when I'm with this person, I just..." Percy couldn't stop his eyes from glazing over a bit. He quickly snapped out of it. "It's ridiculous that one person could affect another like this."

"Ridiculous, yes. But also wonderful."

"Well, I'm not sure I care for it."

"Oh, you're just confused by it, that's all. It defies all logic and that's got to be frustrating to you of all people." Arthur stopped and examined Percy more closely. He hesitated a moment, frowning, appeared to be choosing his words, and then he said, "Percy, I know this is none of my business, and you don't have to answer, but have you started having sex?"

Percy winced as though he'd been burned. "Dad!"

"I'm sorry. I know we've already had The Talk, and yes, yes, you know everything anyway, and I don't really expect you to talk to me about this kind of thing, but... well, you know you can if you need to, right?"

Percy's entire head had turned bright pink. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Yes, I know," he mumbled, glancing around to make sure none of the rest of their family were within earshot. "And I'm fine, thanks. I don't need to discuss anything of that nature."

Arthur nodded. "Ah. Well, if you need to talk –"

"I know. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Now, about what I asked you – that can't be good, can it? Being that consumed by another person? It isn't healthy. It feels unnatural." Percy fidgeted as trying to shake something off his back.

"It's perfectly natural. Whether it becomes unhealthy is really up to you. But I wouldn't worry if I were you. You're the most level-headed person I know."

"I am, aren't I?" Percy said, seemingly to himself. "Well, I suppose I should be all right. It's just a bit unnerving at times, the intensity of what I feel. And it hasn't even been that long."

"How long's it been?"

"Er... about a week or so."

Arthur smiled.

"What?"

"Nothing," Arthur said with a shrug. "I've just never seen you like this before. All... human-like."

Percy rolled his eyes. "Stop it."

Arthur wiped the smile off his face, but struggled to keep it off. "Sorry."

"I do have another question. Do you remember that day back when I was a kid, when those three You-Know-Who supporters came into our backyard?"

Arthur frowned. "Yes."

"I've been thinking about that a lot lately. It's been bothering me."

Arthur turned more toward him. "How so?"

"Well, that boy who grabbed me, what he said about me being like him. What do you suppose that meant? A, er, friend of mine suggested maybe he saw something in me that he identified with."

Arthur sighed. "Well, I suppose it's possible. I mean, these people, these Death Eaters, especially the young ones, they're probably constantly looking for kindred spirits."

"But a four-year-old?"

Arthur shrugged. "It's hard to say how their minds work. Perhaps he sensed that you didn't quite fit in with Bill and Charlie. People like that would be on the lookout for outsiders."

"But I was _four_."

Arthur shrugged. "Starting them young, I guess."

"Mental, the lot of them," Percy said under his breath. "Do you remember what he said to me? Besides telling me I was like him."

Arthur's expression hardened. "Yes, I'll never forget it. It was the creepiest damn thing I'd ever heard."

Percy sat up straighter. "What did he say?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I told you, Dad, it's been bothering me lately. Maybe if I could remember it I could put it to rest."

Arthur sighed. "He picked you up and rocked you in his arms a bit and asked your name. You didn't answer, so he told you his."

"What was it?"

"I can't remember," Arthur said hastily. "He asked you a bunch of questions, like how you were and how you liked living with Muggle-lovers. Said some things about your mother that I absolutely refuse to repeat. And, well, that's about it, really."

"But there's something else. You said so yourself, it was the creepiest damn thing you'd ever heard. He kept saying it. He called me..." Percy trailed off and looked at his father imploringly.

Arthur, looking disgruntled and uncomfortable, exhaled heavily and replied, "Pretty. He kept calling you pretty."

Percy stared at him. His stomach dropped, the colour drained from his face and he tried desperately not to think the obvious, that it had been Barty Jr. "But... I was four," he said weakly.

"Well, that's what he kept calling you," Arthur muttered, looking away and folding his arms.

"Are you absolutely sure you can't remember his name?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"What about his face? Do you remember what he looked like?"

"Percy." Arthur reached out and took hold of Percy's shoulder. "The way that boy picked you up and spoke to you is one of the creepiest things I've ever witnessed. I'm thankful that you barely remember it. Sometimes I wish I didn't either. Please, let's just talk about something else, yeah?"

Percy swallowed. "Yeah," he said with a nod, looking away dazedly. "Yeah, okay. Sorry."

"Good." Arthur patted Percy on the back and examined him for a moment. "You all right? It got to you, didn't it? Dredging all that up, it got to you."

"What?" Percy looked around at him. "Oh. Yeah. It did. You're right. Let's change the subject."

 

* * *

For the rest of the evening, Percy kept hearing Barty Jr.'s voice in his head calling him "pretty" over and over. What was worse, he kept hearing his own voice crying out in ecstasy and confessing his love for the man. He kept seeing his own naked reflection proudly offering up its arse.

"Gods," Percy muttered under his breath.

"I'm sorry?"

Percy looked up, surprised that he'd been overheard. "Nothing, Mr. Crouch. Sorry. Just talking to myself."

Mr. Crouch frowned at him from his desk and then turned away again. "You're distracted again. Thought we'd gotten past that."

"We have. I'm fine."

"Hmph. Perhaps I ought to be letting you head downstairs _before_ you and I set to work. Get it out of your system, clear your head."

"That is _not_ what's distracting me," Percy said more forcefully than he'd intended. Mr. Crouch slowly turned to look at him again, fixed him with an annoyed stare. Percy shrank back a bit. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean for that to come out that way."

"Hmph," Mr. Crouch grunted again and turned away.

Percy tried to get back to work, but he couldn't concentrate. He put his quill down. "Mr. Crouch, I'm sorry to interrupt again, but I'm having quite a dilemma here."

With a sigh, Mr. Crouch put down his own quill and turned to face Percy again. "What is it?"

"It's Barty and me. Well, mostly him."

"What's he done now?" Mr. Crouch asked wearily.

"Nothing recent. Mr. Crouch, I have reason to believe that he harassed my family when I was a boy."

"Well, that wouldn't surprise me," sighed Mr. Crouch.

"He and two others came into our backyard, called us horrible names, and Barty..."

"And Barty what?"

"It doesn't sound so terrible now, but he picked me up – I was only four – and he said things to me. Sir, I think he's had his eye on me for much longer than we thought."

"You think he's been stalking you since you were four years old?"

"Well, not exactly stalking, no –"

"Weatherby," Mr. Crouch said firmly, "I think you'd better stop before you say something you'll regret."

Percy hesitated, but then pressed on. "Sir, this is important."

"My son is many things. Many terrible things. But one thing he is not is a... a..."

"I never said he was!" Percy said hastily, not letting Mr. Crouch actually say the word. "I'm not trying to imply that he was thinking anything inappropriate about me at the time, I just think that there was a strange interest in me long before I started working for you."

"Well, that's preposterous! It wasn't him."

"What if it was? Just hear me out. What if it was he who came to my home, broke through our protective charms and harassed me and my family? Would you expect me to still feel comfortable going to him tonight?"

"I need you to go to him," Mr. Crouch replied. "That's all there is to it. I need you to be with him. Do you understand?"

Percy's heart sank. He could see he wasn't going to get an appropriate reaction. "Is that an order?" he asked coldly. "Because I'm pretty sure you can't order me to do that."

Mr. Crouch sat back in his chair. "No. No, it's not an order. But I think you know that your decisions here very strongly affect your future career."

Percy's nostrils flared. "That's a threat."

"No, it isn't."

"It is!" Percy stood up and glared down at him. "I can't believe what I'm hearing!"

"And I can't believe what _I'm_ hearing!" Mr. Crouch said, his voice soft, but fierce, as though he wanted to yell, but was restraining himself. He also rose to his feet and he stepped toward Percy so quickly, Percy instinctively took a step back. "You know very well what's at stake for me here. Nothing's changed, nothing at all. Barty's still the same person you've been with this entire time."

"Yes, but the situation is a tad different, don't you think?"

"What, you're upset because he's not who you thought he was?" Mr. Crouch laughed bitterly, stepped away from Percy and began pacing. "I can't believe this. I thought, of all the people in the world, _you_ would be the least likely to fuck with your heart."

Percy winced at the sound of such a harsh word coming from his boss. Mr. Crouch never swore. "I'm not in love with him."

"Oh, really? Because that's not what I've heard. You're not very good at remembering your silencing spells, Mr. Weatherby. Too bloody eager to get your clothes off, I suspect."

"No," Percy said, his anger rising. "Oh, no, you do _not_ get to speak to me like that."

"I've heard you. Screaming his name, professing your love."

"Like to listen, do you?" Percy asked, almost trembling with anger now.

"You," said Mr. Crouch, stepping closer to him once more, "let your feelings get in the way of your job." He shook his head, eyeing Percy like something nasty stuck to his shoe. "I can't even begin to tell you how disappointed I am."

Percy lowered his gaze, a deep feeling shame competing with his anger now.

"Nothing has changed," Mr. Crouch continued, sounding calmer and laying a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Barty's the same person he's been all week. You simply didn't have all the information. And considering what he is, I hardly think you've the right to be shocked at anything you learn. If you hadn't developed feelings for him, you wouldn't be so bothered right now. Your expectations are what's got you so disappointed. You idealised him, that's what you did. You _can't_ idealise him. You can't expect anything from him. You can't rely on him. He is what he is. Nothing's changed, Weatherby. Nothing. All right? Weatherby? Are you listening?"

Percy was listening. He wanted to tell Mr. Crouch that Barty wasn't the only person Percy couldn't trust, but he didn't. Instead he slowly looked up into Mr. Crouch's eyes and nodded. "Fine," he said. "You're right. Barty isn't any different than he was this morning. I did forget what he is," Percy reluctantly admitted. "I have a job to do, so I will continue to do it. But a few things _have_ changed, sir." Percy shrugged Mr. Crouch's hand off his shoulder, and none too gently. "For starters, my name is _Weasley_. Percy _Weasley_. Got it?"

Mr. Crouch straightened up a bit and blinked at Percy in surprise. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Because I respected you too much to correct you."

Mr. Crouch raised an eyebrow. "And now?"

"Now?" Percy took a deep breath and looked straight into his eyes. "Now you know my name."

Mr. Crouch's jaw muscles twitched.

"And it's late. I'm tired. There's nothing here that's so important we can't pick it up in the morning, is there?"

Mr. Crouch licked his lips and said quietly, "I suppose not."

"Good." Percy stood a bit taller. He was still trembling and frankly was a bit afraid of how things would be between them in the morning, but for the moment he felt fantastic. There was so much more he wanted to say to Mr. Crouch, but he decided not to push it. "I'm off to bed, then. Goodnight, sir." At that, Percy spun around and headed for the door.

When Percy arrived in the basement, he found Barty Jr. laid out on the bed, completely naked, on his back, his hand idly fondling his own prick. Percy's body reacted immediately to the sight; all the anger he'd built up upstairs, all the doubts and questions and disappointment he'd been carrying around since dinner, began to melt away and his cock began to swell.

Barty opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Percy as Percy approached. "Hello, you pretty, young thing," he whispered.

Percy let out a soft, shaky breath. It was as though all his resolve had turned to air and was escaping out his mouth. He still liked it when Barty called him that. He absolutely loved it. He took a deep breath, trying to find his resolve. "We need to talk."

"Oh? What about?"

Percy's eyes kept darting down to watch Barty touch himself. His own cock tugged impatiently at him. "I, um... Must you do that?"

Barty grinned. "Does it bother you?"

"Well, yes, I have something I want to ask you."

"So, ask me."

Percy emitted an exasperated sigh.

"Why are you so far away?" Barty asked. "Get in bed with me?"

Percy hesitated. He had something very important to discuss that couldn't wait, no matter how good Barty looked all spread out on the bed like that. No, this definitely couldn't wait.

Percy was pulling at his tie and unbuttoning his shirt with urgency a moment later. So fast, in fact, that he was sure he'd loosened a few buttons. Barty was watching him, watching every inch of Percy's body as clothing was ripped off, and Percy loved it. He took perverse pleasure in revealing his hard cock, in showing it off like it was something special, because Barty looked at it like it was. He stood there completely naked and touched himself in a blatant manner, displaying himself for Barty.

"That's my perfect little pure-blood plaything," Barty whispered. "I've taught you well, haven't I?"

Percy nodded as he took his glasses off and tossed them onto his pile of clothes. He crawled onto the bed, got on top of Barty, straddled him and kissed him hard. Barty's hands were all over him, and then Barty's fingers were slippery and probing deep inside him, and then Percy was rocking his hips back and forth as Barty pushed inside him and filled him up.

Percy began to ride him, slowly at first, and then building up speed. Barty gripped Percy's waist as Percy bounced on top of him.

"That's it," Barty panted. "That's my perfect... pure-blood... boy."

Percy shut his eyes and groaned and gritted his teeth and tried not to think about what Barty might have been thinking about him that day when Percy was four years old. He rode hard and fast until Barty erupted inside him.

 

* * *

"What did you want to say to me?" asked Barty.

Percy was lying naked in his arms, sweaty and sated, on the moth-eaten couch where they'd just made love for the third time that night. Percy was cradled between Barty's legs, his head resting back against Barty's chest. Barty's arm was wrapped snugly across Percy's shoulders while his other hand rested on Percy's belly.

"I wanted to tell you," said Percy softly, his fingers idly caressing Barty's arm, "that I know it was you who came to my house that day back when I was four years old. The girl you were with called you Beej. Short for B.J."

"Finally worked that out, have you?"

"You knew who I was the moment I set foot in this house, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you say?"

"No reason to. Besides, it's been such fun just watching you try to figure it out."

Barty's hand drifted from Percy's shoulder to his neck and he lightly gripped Percy's throat. A pleasant tingle ran through Percy's body and he tilted his face upwards, extending his neck to give Barty more room. Barty caressed his throat and Percy closed his eyes.

"You called me pretty even then," whispered Percy.

"You _were_ pretty even then."

"I was four."

"I could see how beautiful you were going to turn out. And I was right, wasn't I?"

"Were you... attracted to me then?"

There was a long silence. Percy opened his eyes.

"Barty?"

"It's like I said," Barty said gently, "I could see how beautiful you'd become later on."

Percy shut his eyes again, telling himself Barty's long silence was nothing to be concerned about. Barty's other hand wandered down from Percy's belly to play between Percy's legs. Percy spread open for him, hooking a leg over top of Barty's and letting it dangle off the couch, giving Barty full access. He was still uneasy, however; Barty hadn't really answered Percy's question.

"You said I was different than the rest of my family."

"Well, you are, aren't you?"

"Yes. But how did you know?"

"I could just tell. You don't fit in with them."

"And what's that mean, that I'd make a good Death Eater?"

"Maybe. I thought so at the time. Seems you've been thoroughly brain-washed since then, though."

"I see. Damaged goods, am I?"

"Yep."

Percy smiled. This conversation was mad. This entire scenario was mad. If his family could see him now... He gripped Barty's arm and stroked it as Barty gently massaged his throat.

"Do you still have the Mark?" Percy asked suddenly.

"Course."

"Can't you ever get rid of it?"

"No. Why would I want to?"

"You're not a Death Eater anymore."

Barty chuckled. "And who told you that?"

Percy's eyes popped open again. "Well... you said –"

"Right, right," said Barty as though just remembering. "I probably did lead you to believe... But you're smarter than that, aren't you? Thought you were."

Percy stared, now wide-eyed and not at all relaxed, across the room. "About that increased Death Eater activity of late," he said casually. "Any ideas what that might be about?"

"Think I've been involved?"

"I don't know."

Barty's thumb massaged the column of Percy's throat. "I've heard things. Nothing to do with me, though. Got my own plans."

Percy's heart thumped nervously. "Such as?"

"Like I'd tell you. You've been brain-washed, remember?"

"I thought you trusted me."

"I do. To an extent."

Barty's grip on Percy's throat tightened a bit. Percy's breaths started coming harder. He reached up and laid a hand on Barty's hand.

"You still believe what they believe. The Death Eaters."

"Maybe I do."

"You like that I'm a pure-blood."

"Yeah, I do." Barty gripped Percy's neck just a bit tighter. "But you knew that, Pretty Thing. You've known that all along."

"Stop it," Percy said firmly. "What are you doing?"

"Just playing with my property. I thought _you_ trusted _me_."

"I do." This was a lie, of course, and Percy knew that Barty knew it.

"Then hold still," Barty whispered. "Don't fight me."

Barty squeezed more tightly, and Percy began to struggle. Percy dug his nails into Barty's hand, pulling and clawing with both hands now, but Barty held fast as he kept fondling between Percy's legs, making Percy hard despite the choking.

"That's it," Barty whispered against Percy's temple as he stroked him faster. "Squirm for me."

Percy could hardly breathe at all. He struggled as hard as he could, but Barty managed to hook his legs over top of both of Percy's to hold them still. Percy wheezed, desperate for air, and his cock began to pulse with pleasure.

"Don't fight it," Barty whispered. "Show me you're really mine. Show me you're worthy."

But Percy kept fighting. He thought he'd even broken Barty's skin with his nails, but Barty didn't seem to notice. His head began to swim and he began to black out, but not before the pleasure in his groin hit its peak and he started coming.

"That's my boy," whispered Barty. "My pretty little pure-blood boy. Come for me." Barty turned his face toward Percy's head, took Percy's earlobe in his mouth and bit down a little too hard. Percy opened his mouth to cry out, but of course he couldn't. His body jerked in Barty's grasp, his seed spilling freely onto the couch and Barty's hand.

Gradually Barty's grip on Percy's neck loosened and Percy managed to pull away and roll off the couch, onto the floor. He landed on his hands and knees and then fell over onto his side, coughing and spluttering and clutching at his neck as the last of his orgasm made his body twitch and his cock dribble on the worn-out carpet.

Barty stood and stared down at Percy. Percy looked up at him, fear and shock written all over his red face. Barty knelt down on one knee and his face came more into focus. Barty was examining him with a cold, removed sort of curiosity.

 _"You idealised him that's what you did,"_ Percy heard Mr. Crouch say in his head. _"You can't idealise him. You can't expect anything from him. You can't rely on him. He is what he is. Nothing's changed, Weatherby. Nothing. Okay? Weatherby? Are you listening?"_

Percy turned his face away and stared unseeingly at the foot of the couch.

"Even after remembering who I was, you still came back to me," Barty said. "I thought that meant you trusted me."

"I wanted to," Percy said honestly.

"You still want to, don't you?"

Percy said nothing. He did still want this and he was disgusted with himself for it. He slowly sat up and looked at Barty, searched his eyes.

"Come to bed," Barty whispered, reaching out and caressing Percy's cheek. Percy wanted to _want_ to flinch and pull away, but he didn't. He still craved Barty's touch.

Percy began to stand. Barty did as well and he helped Percy up. The two of them stood there for a moment just staring at each other.

"Well?" asked Barty. "Are you coming?"

Percy shook his head. "No. I think I should go."

Barty's eyebrows went up. "What? Because of that?" He gestured at the couch where he'd just choked Percy and forced him to come. "I've done that to you before."

Percy shook his head again. "I thought we were past things like that. I thought –"

"You thought... what?" whispered Barty, stepping closer, looking right into Percy eyes.

Percy hesitated. "I thought things were different now."

Barty smiled ever so slightly. "Why?"

"Because that's what I wanted to think. There." Percy threw up his hands. "I said it."

Barty grinned and shook his head, and when he spoke, he spoke slowly and deliberately as though explaining something to someone much less intelligent than himself. "You believed what you _needed_ to believe. Because you know that you belong with me. And since your filthy fucking Muggle-loving family has done such a good number on your head," he said, his voice rising a bit, and he poked Percy none too gently right in the temple, "you had to convince yourself," he continued, his voice growing soft again, "that I'm not what I am in order to be in your rightful place in my bed."

Percy's jaw clenched. He didn't know whether to be angry or sad. His shoulders sagged and he said, "I have to go."

"You don't want to leave. I know you don't."

"No, I don't," Percy admitted, looking down and shuffling his feet. When he looked back up into Barty's eyes, he knew there was sadness in his own. "But I have to. I'm sorry." At that, he stepped away from Barty and headed for the bed where his clothes, glasses and wand were.

Barty had other plans, however. He lunged at Percy, grabbed him from behind and tried to wrestle him to the floor.

"You're mine!" he growled. "Do you hear me? You're not going anywhere."

They struggled and stumbled together across the basement floor. Percy pushed backwards with everything he had and slammed Barty up against a wall. They toppled forward onto the floor by the bed, Barty landing on Percy's back. If Barty had been injured, he was showing no signs of it, using his surprising strength to hold Percy down and keep him from crawling toward the pile of clothes where his wand was. Percy stretched out an arm, trying to reach the wand, but Barty grabbed that arm and pulled it back.

"Why are you... doing this?" Percy gasped, stretching out his other arm, only to have it, too, pulled back.

"Because your education isn't finished yet," Barty growled. "Look at you. So desperate to get back to your Mudblood-loving family. My work with you is clearly not done."

Surely someone upstairs had heard them by now and was coming to investigate. But no, Percy realised, the basement door had been Imperturbed. He'd remembered to run up and do that just after the first time they'd had sex that night. No one could hear them, not even if Percy screamed.

But what about Winky? Had Mr. Crouch Imperturbed the door before or after Barty had summoned her the first night Percy had been with him? He had no idea. The magic of house elves was different than that of witches and wizards. Could she Apparate through the spell?

Percy took a great, big breath and bellowed, "WINKY!" just before Barty's hand clamped down over his mouth. The last syllable had been somewhat cut off, but he'd managed to say her whole name. At least he thought he had. Did it count if you didn't get the entire name out?

"Oh, you're a traitorous little cunt, aren't you?" Barty hissed in Percy's ear. "Trying to summon my very own servant to use against me? Tsk, tsk, bad little fuck toy."

Barty squeezed Percy's nose between his thumb and the base of his forefinger while keeping his palm pressed tight to Percy's mouth. Percy couldn't breathe at all. But putting that hand over Percy's mouth meant Barty had had to let go of one of Percy's hands, so he extended his now free arm again toward his clothes and his wand. They weren't that far away. Just a few inches...

"I'm going to have some fun with you once you black out, Pretty," Barty whispered. "Oh, you're going to be _sooo_ sore when you come to."

It was becoming harder and harder to struggle. The room was growing dark, but Percy couldn't keep his eyes open, anyway.

"Go to sleep," Barty crooned. "That's it. Sleep, my Pretty Boy."

Percy's eyes fell shut and he couldn't open them again. His other hand was free now, but it just fell limply at his side. He felt Barty spreading his, Percy's, legs, felt a hand slip between them and start feeling him. Barty's voice seemed to be moving further and further away...

 

* * *

Percy opened his eyes. Everything was blurry, but he recognised Mr. Crouch's office. He was lying on the couch. He wasn't naked, but he wasn't wearing his own clothes. Where were his glasses?

Where was Barty?

Percy sat up too quickly and his head swam. He shut his eyes and touched his forehead.

"Whoa, whoa, hang on," said a deep voice. Percy felt hands on him, trying to make him lie back down. He flinched, nearly jumping off the couch, and he backed away, scrunching himself up as much as he could into the corner of the couch. Wide-eyed and trembling, he looked up into the face of Mr. Crouch.

"I'm sorry," said Mr. Crouch, who'd straightened up and was staring down at Percy. "I should've warned you before I did that."

Percy relaxed a bit, extended his legs again, but his eyes darted around the room. "Where is he?" he asked.

"Unconscious. Locked downstairs."

"What happened?"

"Winky found you. She went downstairs, said she'd been summoned. She found the two of you on the floor together. You were unconscious."

Percy frowned, trying to remember. "She was able to Apparate through the Imperturbable Charm?"

"Yes, of course."

Percy nodded, still looking a bit confused. "I... I summoned her."

"Apparently. She was able to push Barty off you with magic, made him go flying right across the room, slammed him up against a wall. He was knocked out." Mr. Crouch turned and went and sat at his desk, turning his chair to face Percy. "I didn't know she had it in her to stand up to him like that."

"What was he doing to me when she found us? Did she tell you?"

Mr. Crouch hesitated and lowered his gaze. He looked up at Percy a moment later, but he still didn't say anything. Percy looked away.

"Never mind," he muttered, feeling queasy. "Forget I asked." He frowned, still trying to remember exactly what had happened. "Winky didn't appear straight away," he said. He finally looked down and saw that he was wrapped in one of Mr. Crouch's old dressing gowns. He tugged it more snugly around himself and wondered if Mr. Crouch had noticed his perfectly smooth, hairless body. He certainly hoped not.

"She said the summoning wasn't quite complete," Mr. Crouch replied. "She decided to check on you two anyway, not wanting to ignore a possible summons."

"I... didn't quite get her whole name out. Barty... he..."

Mr. Crouch held up a hand. "I don't need to know the details."

Percy frowned. "You don't need to know the details?" he repeated slowly. "You... you gave me to him."

"Once," Mr. Crouch corrected him. "I gave you to him _once_. You kept on going back of your own accord."

Percy's blood slowly began to boil. "So, what happened downstairs was my fault, was it?"

"I didn't say that." Mr. Crouch sighed and glanced away for a moment. "Let's not argue. Now's not the time. Let's just get you dressed, get something in you, some tea or something, make you feel better. Send you home for a few days so you can rest up."

"For a few days?"

"Yes. Do you think you'll need more time?"

Percy stared at him in disbelief. "Are you suggesting that I continue to work here?"

Mr. Crouch blinked at him. "Weatherb... Weasley... what happened downstairs is something we all have to expect. Barty's not stable. He's not normal."

"I just have to expect to be assaulted?"

"He assaulted you the first time you were together. He Imperiused you. You can't tell me you suddenly have a problem with it."

"I _always_ had a problem with it!" Percy snapped.

"But you pushed your issues aside and went to him anyway. Because it was the smart thing to do. Smart for your career, both future and present. You knew, going in, what he was."

Percy didn't need to be reminded. "You're right. I did know. And I forgot somehow. But that's over now." Percy stood, still holding the dressing gown tightly around himself. "Mr. Crouch, I resign. I can't continue to work for you, at all, in any capacity, under the circumstances."

Percy was expecting another argument, expected Mr. Crouch to continue to poke holes in his reasons. But Mr. Crouch just sat there for a moment, quiet, not looking at him.

"Are you going to tell anyone about Barty?" he finally asked.

Percy considered. He certainly should tell someone. Anybody in their right mind would, _would've_ done a long time ago. "He ought to be locked up in a proper facility," he said.

"I know," said Mr. Crouch, looking up at him. "But that's not an option."

Percy shook his head. "I think you're mad."

"Perhaps I am."

"You're really going to continue to keep him here?"

"I have to."

"But _why_?"

"Because. I loved my wife. And she loved him. Simple as that."

Mr. Crouch was looking at Percy with sadness in his eyes. Percy thought it was sadness that his wife was gone, that his son was insane, that he was trapped in this hopeless situation. But for a moment Percy wondered if maybe it was pity for him, Percy, because he didn't get it. Because he didn't fully understand how love could make someone do such a thing.

Percy decided on the former. The latter only angered him.

"Fine," Percy said. "I won't tell. I leave this mess in your hands."

Mr. Crouch nodded. "Very well," he said. He stood, stepped toward Percy and held out his hand. "Goodbye, Mr. Weasley."

"That's it?" asked Percy, eyeing the hand suspiciously.

Mr. Crouch shrugged. "Is there more?"

"You're not going to try to convince me to stay or threaten to sabotage my career?"

"I think we've all been through enough. Don't you?"

Percy couldn't have agreed more, though simply walking out of this house and never saying a word to anyone about what had happened here troubled him greatly. He looked into Mr. Crouch's eyes. The man looked as tired as ever. Percy wondered what he was going to do now without Percy there to help control Barty and keep his secrets. Percy worried for him. Despite everything, he worried.

Percy finally held out his hand and grasped Mr. Crouch's. They shook once and nodded at each other.

Winky was summoned to escort Percy upstairs so he could change and then leave. Percy left Mr. Crouch's office for the last time.

 

* * *

When Percy appeared inside The Burrow, he was surprised to hear that someone besides the twins was awake.

"Do you two have any idea what time it is?" he heard his mother ask up on the second floor. "Go. To. BED!"

Percy walked silently to the kitchen where he sat at the table in the dark and waited. He listened to hear when his mother finally headed upstairs to her own bedroom. But Molly didn't head upstairs. She came downstairs and right into the kitchen.

"Who's there?" she whispered cautiously. "Percy, is that you?"

"Yes, it's me," Percy sighed.

The lights were turned on and Percy looked up at his mother with tired eyes.

"What are you doing here at this hour?" she asked, going over to him, leaning over and hugging him.

"Funny, I thought I lived here."

"Oh, you know what I mean." She pulled up a chair and sat next to him. "Has something happened?"

"You could say that." Percy sat up a bit straighter and tried to figure out how to explain things to her. "I've resigned. I'm no longer Mr. Crouch's assistant."

Molly's eyes widened. "You quit?"

Percy winced and looked away. "I hate that word."

"Whatever for, Percy? Why would you resign? I thought you were happy."

He had no idea what to say. And then something came to him, something someone had said to him once. "Because there's a fine line between being noble and being a damn fool."

She blinked at him. "What does that mean?"

"It means the work environment was... not ideal. And I put up with it far too long."

"This have something to do with whatever Mr. Crouch was up to that you don't approve of?"

Percy threw up his hands. "I swear, you people gossip like it's going out of style."

"Well, it's me, Percy. Your father doesn't keep things from me."

Percy glanced sidelong at her and wondered if his father had mentioned his questions about love to her. "Well, yes, it does involve what I spoke to Dad about. And no, I'm still not going to discuss the details. The point is it's over now."

Molly seemed hesitant and fretful, but Percy shot her a stern look. "I can't talk about it, Mum. I know you're worried, and I'm sorry for that, but just be happy that it's over. I am."

Molly sighed. "Well... what are you going to do now, then? Are you going to apply for another position at the Ministry?"

"Yes, I think I will."

"Your Dad will put in a good word for you with whichever department you choose."

"I know he will."

Molly reached up to stroke Percy's hair, but this time he flinched. He was still terribly jumpy. She retracted her hand.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately. "I didn't mean to do that."

"Well, I see you're back to your old self."

"No, it's not that." Percy sighed and his shoulders sagged. He felt the stress of the night's events suddenly pressing down on him. He couldn't tell her. He wanted to so badly, but he just couldn't. He hung his head. "I'm sorry."

"Sweetheart," she whispered, shifting her chair closer to his. "What's wrong? Please tell me."

He looked at her again, and all he wanted to do was fall into her arms. He hesitated, but eventually gave in. He leaned over and laid his head on her shoulder. She instantly wrapped her arms around him and he closed his eyes.

"Life is so complicated," he whispered.

"It is, yeah. Never thought I'd hear you say that, though. You were also so self-assured."

"I'm not. Mum, I don't know what the hell I'm doing."

"Oh, baby," she cooed, rocking him and petting his hair. "You're better off than most. You've got a good head on your shoulders. You have no idea how proud I am of you."

Percy squeezed his eyes shut and tried to push everything down. He'd already admitted he needed a hug, he was not about to cry too.

"Mum?"

"Yes, love?"

"When did you know you loved Dad?"

When she spoke, Percy could hear the smile in her voice. "I knew I loved your father – oh, let me think... probably about the fifteenth time he asked me out."

Percy had to smile. "He said he knew the moment he saw you."

Molly laughed, so hard in fact that she threw her head back for a moment, making Percy sit up. "Well, I'm sure a part of him knew that quickly," she said.

Percy frowned, trying to work out what she meant by that. He quickly figured it out and frowned even more. "Oh, Mum..."

"Why are you asking? You're not in love, are you?"

"No. No, definitely not. But... I met someone. And I barely knew him before I wanted to say the words. You know, _the_ words."

Molly stared at him for a moment in silence. Percy took a moment to realise why.

"Him?" she asked.

"Oh, er... yeah. Him."

To his surprise, she smiled and nodded. "Okay. Him."

"You're okay with that?"

"Course I am. I suspected, anyway."

"You did? How? When?"

Molly laughed again. "When? Always. Mothers know, love."

Percy looked away, frowning, unsure how he felt about that. "Oh."

"Is he nice?"

"No. I mean, he was... all right. But it doesn't matter, because... because..."

"He doesn't like men?" she offered. Percy grabbed onto that like a lifeline.

"Yes! Exactly. He's straight. So, that's that. But the thing is... I wanted to say the words to him so badly. I felt _something_ so strongly for him that I was willing to do almost anything for him. Mum, if love makes people do mad things, out-of-character things, how can it be... I mean, what if it's a bit..."

"A bit what?"

"Well, dangerous?"

Molly smiled at him. "I think it probably is a bit dangerous."

"Well, doesn't that concern anybody else?"

She patted his thigh. "Percy, love is a powerful thing. It can be dangerous, it can make us do crazy things, but in the end it's all we have. It's the only thing that matters. What would this family be without it, eh?"

Percy thought about Mr. Crouch's family, the state it was currently in. Mr. Crouch had loved his wife. Had he ever loved his son? Perhaps if he had loved Barty Jr. more, things would've been different.

Percy nodded at his mother. "You're right."

She smiled even more at him, took his hand in both of hers and squeezed it.

Just then, there was a crash from upstairs. It sounded like something heavy had fallen over onto the floor. Molly and Percy both jumped and looked upwards.

"Oh, those two!" she huffed. She immediately stood and tried to walk away, but Percy didn't let go of her hand. She stopped and looked back at him. He stared in shock at their hands; he hadn't meant to hold onto her like that.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered, letting her go. "I don't know why I did that."

Molly turn back to him and stood there for a moment, staring at him. He looked down and fidgeted.

"You know what?" she said and took her seat again. "I'm sure everything's fine up there."

He looked at her incredulously. "Did you hear the same noise I heard?"

"Bah!" She waved a hand dismissively. "Let your father deal with them for once." She patted his thigh again and smiled at him. "Why don't you tell me about your young man, hm?"

Percy couldn't help but grin. "He's not _my_ young man, Mother. And he turned out to be a complete nutter and I don't think I want to talk about him."

But Percy did want to talk about him, even after everything that had happened. He cast furtive glances at his mother as he considered his next words.

"He... isn't a very nice person," he said quietly. "I finally realised and accepted that. I shouldn't still want to be with him. Right?"

Molly shook her head. "No. But sometimes it takes a while."

"Well, that's ridiculous. It shouldn't take any time at all."

"Perhaps. But feelings don't work like that, especially really strong ones."

Percy was about to speak again when another ominous thump sounded from the floor above. "Are you sure you shouldn't go up and check to see that everything's still in one piece?"

Molly shook her head. "They've blown up nearly everything in this house. Might as well finish the job."

Percy smiled at that, and then he laughed, really laughed, laying a hand on his belly and tossing his head back. When he looked at his mother again, she was smiling hugely at him. He suddenly thought he might cry and he had no idea why. He attributed it to stress and pushed his tears down again.

"Thank you," he said, reaching for her hand. "Thank you for staying this time."

She squeezed his hand and nodded. "I should stay more often."

END


End file.
